A Little Bit Of This, A Little Bit Of That
by Orlissa
Summary: <html><head></head>Drabble collection, with every genre and character you can imagine : updated daily</html>
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

Hello everyone! :)

First of all, I hope you'll enjoy these little drabbles. A few words about them beforehand: there will be one hundred of them, updated daily, or twice a day on some special occasions. Each of the drabbles are based on a prompt, I was given by a friend of mine. Each one is no less than 100, and no more than 200 words long. Some of them are romantic, fluffy, humorous, but there are many angsty, thoughtful and even sad ones as well. Most of them – about the half – are in Rose's POV, but you'll find there many other characters' thought as well.

What if you got inspired by one of the drabbles? You are allowed to write a one-shot or a full-length story about them, but send me a PM beforehand, please.

Also, look at these drabbles as appetizers – I have two VA one-shots being beta'd at the moment, as well as a full-length – about thirty chapters long - story all planned out, waiting to be written.

Lastly, I would like to thank my fabulous beta, Doozey, for her awesome work!

Enjoy the drabbles!

Orlissa

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy - the wonderful Richelle Mead does.


	2. 001 Sleep

**001. Sleep **

POV: Rose

Word count: 123

I love sleeping with Dimitri – and I really mean only sleeping. In the same bed, snuggled close to each other.

But I hate when my shift ends after his. When it's the other way around, there's no problem. I've always been a deep sleeper, so when he comes to bed I never wake up. But in this he is the total opposite of me. Always being on alert has made its mark on his sleeping habits; he will wake up to the smallest movement or sound.

That is why I always feel guilty when I climb to bed when he's already asleep.

That, and the fact that I know he'll be awake after for quite a long time. Because he'll be watching me.


	3. 002 Creativity

**002. Creativity**

POV: Rose

Word count: 103

When you're in love with your mentor, who happens to be seven years your senior, still underage, and he also shows some sparks towards you, well, let's say, it's not easy to pull through with a romantic getaway.

You have to find a great place. Somewhere comfy, but remote enough, or at least lockable, so won't get caught.

Beforehand, you both need a reason why you will be away. Afterwards you need a perfect excuse for where you were, for when questions are asked.

It's tricky, but not unmanageable.

And honestly? I think everything can be solved with a little bit of creativity.


	4. 003 Love

**003. Love**

POV: Rose

Word count: 102

Love has always been something I've never really counted on. Some far away, unreachable thing, meant for someone else. It was something beyond my reach. After all, I was a Dhampir, a Guardian nonetheless, and even at a very young age I knew that my place was beside Lissa. I very well understood that this profession could very easily result in my early and nasty death.

So I wasn't really after it – after all, in a life like mine there was absolutely no place for love.

Then I met Dimitri, and he rocked my beliefs, my world.

In more than one way.


	5. 004 Room

**004. Room **

POV: Christian

Word count: 103

Everyone bears scars from Spokane: Rose from the loss of Mason, her kind of boyfriend, Mia from the sadness caused by the death of her mum, Eddie from the memory of the endorphin-induced haze of the Strigoi bite. These things will haunt them forever.

And what about me?

People think I came out of it without any wound – physical or mental. That I was the hero, beside Rose, of course, who kept calm, played his part well, and made the escape possible. That it left no mark on me.

But they're wrong.

Because I can't stand being in a closed room ever since.


	6. 005 Glass

**005. Glass**

POV: Rose

Word count: 108

It was the birthday of some friend of Lissa's – well, the friend might be a little bit too strong of a word for their relationship, but we were invited nonetheless. It was held on Saturday night, in her room. There was music, there was that wild party mood, and there was booze – many bottles of booze.

I really didn't want to drink – I knew my place, but they were so adamant about it. Anyway, what harm could a glass of wine cause? So I took it, and the next, and the next… The night ended in disaster.

The next day I couldn't bear to look into Dimitri's eyes.


	7. 006 Red

**006. Red**

POV: Rose

Word count: 115

I used to love the color red.

It is wild, fiery, just like me. When you're wearing it, you're saying to the world, "Hey, I'm sexy, I'm proud of it, and I know you want me."

It is also the color of blood, which I saw many times through Lissa's eyes when she bit me. So, for a while I also linked red with the bite-induced pleasure.

I haven't even mentioned that it looks great with my complexion yet.

But then I met Dimitri in Omsk, and when I looked into his once all-consuming brown orbs, and all I saw was red… well, that was the moment I became disgusted with red for a lifetime.


	8. 007 Bed

**007. Bed**

POV: Rose

Word count: 115

A bed, this so everyday furniture, can be used in a wide variety of ways.

For one, you sleep in it. When you're a child, you jump on it, and play in it. When you're sick or injured, you lie in it helplessly. When you're in love, well, then you do a lot of things in it which usually involves no clothing, moaning and heavy panting.

And when this lover of yours leaves you forever, even not by his own choice, you can use the very same bed you two used to lie in and make love to each other in to bury your face in the pillows and cry, cry until you fall asleep.


	9. 008 Lamp

**008. Lamp**

POV: Rose

Word count: 149

After the attack, I was desperate to get into Dimitri's room to get his belongings – it was a way of mine to preserve him, his memory. Of course, I was not allowed, not until it was already completely cleared out.

Going in there then was no different to going into any other room. It became soulless, like he had never lived there. But as I sat down on the bed which once was his, I noticed something, something I remembered – his bedside lamp.

It was the lamp which was on when I came into his room that night when Lissa was kidnapped. It was the lamp by which light we almost made love. It was the lamp by which he intended to put my necklace down.

Such a simple object, but so many memories go with it.

I stood up, unplugged the lamp, and left the room with it.


	10. 009 Rose

**009. Rose**

POV: Rose

Word count: 112

I've never been too fond of roses. Sure, they were beautiful, but too common, and to be honest, a little bit boring as well. I mean, in every romantic story the heroine gets roses. When a guy wants to impress you, he gets you roses. And someone getting me a rose? Well, it just shows that he lacks imagination. I mean, how stereotypical is it, giving a rose to a girl named Rose?

Then on Valentine's Day I found a single rose in my gym locker. There wasn't a card or a letter of any kind, but I knew who it was from anyway.

I realized then how much I loved roses.


	11. 010 Road

**010. Road**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 100

Five hours on the road, alone with her, confined in a small place – it is a torture sent from the heavens.

I'm sitting behind the wheel; she is next to me in the passenger seat. She is so close that I can smell her scent so clearly it's almost intoxicating – sweet and fresh, yet so powerful at the same time. I can see her move, fidget from my peripheral vision – barely a movement, barely a smile, but still oh so capturing. She is so beautiful, it almost drives me crazy.

And it makes paying attention to the road rather difficult.


	12. 011 Dirt

**011. Dirt**

**POV: Rose**

Word count: 128

Fighting always comes with dirt, whether I am sparing with Dimitri, or killing Strigoi. You get dust and mud all over yourself when you are rolling on the ground with your opponent. When you are fighting a Strigoi, blood usually accompanies dust and mud – both the Strigoi's blood and yours.

Most of these kinds of dirt can be washed away easily with water and soap. But there is some of it you can never get rid of. This dirt is tricky, because you can't see it, but feel it. Feel it, when you loose a partner, a colleague in a fight, and you know that you could have saved them, if you had reacted faster, moved faster.

This is the kind of dirt you can never wash away.


	13. 012 Bench

**012. Bench**

Word count: 106

In my short life, I've had many fights. Some of them verbal, some of them physical. Some of them I won, some of them I lost. There are ones I want to forget, and ones I want to remember forever. Ones I'm proud of, and others I'm ashamed of. Because when you're knocked off by a Strigoi or a bunch of Guardians, it's no big deal. You fought as well as you could, but they were stronger - that's all. Nobody will hold it against you.

But my biggest defeat wasn't by a dozen of bloodthirsty Strigoi.

It was by a rotten bench. And it sucks.


	14. 013 Notebook

**013. Notebook**

POV: Third person

Word count: 125

Ever since she could read and write, Lissa has always had a notebook – or more like a scrapbook - to capture memories in it.

Photos, memorable quotes, tickets form movies, concerts, flights. Postcards from where she has been, plans for the future – a cut out picture from a magazine, with a very intricate wedding gown on it. A pamphlet from Yale, photos from India.

Yet her most treasured photo in the whole book was one of Christian. She took it when he was sleeping in her room, just before the sun went down, casting interesting shadows on his sleeping face.

After printing the picture out and gluing it into the notebook, she wrote a single sentence under it.

I am so lucky to have you.


	15. 014 Photo

**014. Photo**

POV: Rose

Word count: 166

Lissa got a digital camera from Tasha for Christmas. She was crazy about it for days, always taking photos of us in every situation, no matter how embarrassing they were. Then Christian and I went after the guys to Spokane, and went missing. Lissa worried herself sick, and completely forgot about the camera.

The next time she found it was when we were to move to the Royal Court after graduation – it was in one of the inside compartments of her suitcase. It had been lying there for months.

We went through the photos together – there were some meaningless ones: Christian, Eddie, Mason, me, even Adrian and Mia, all of us laughing, relaxing, and making idiots of ourselves.

And there was one of Dimitri – most likely taken on Christmas morning, while he was talking with Tasha, because he wore one of his rare, true, relaxed smiles.

I printed the picture out and put it into my wallet – it is the only picture I have of him.


	16. 015 Heart

015. Heart

POV: Rose

Word count: 124

The heart, I learnt from a very tender age, is what I should aim for. Pierced by a silver stake, it is what kills a Strigoi – and to kill Strigoi is my goal.

But as I grew, I learnt that a heart can be seen completely differently as well.

You can play with hearts – seduce its owner, play with it, then throw it away. It became a game for me – nothing serious, honestly just a game, and the ones I played with knew this as well.

But then I met Dimitri, and all I wanted to win his heart, then keep it with me forever, treasuring it, keeping it safe.

I didn't know that it would lead to breaking my own heart multiple times.


	17. 016 Chocolate

016. Chocolate

POV: Rose

Word count: 146

It is amazing what you learn about a person when you start living with them.

For example: when we were still living in the Academy, I had never given much though about Dimitri's sweet tooth – it was a minor detail, and back then I was so overawed by the whole picture of him that I didn't pay attention to small things like this.

Then after the whole ordeal, after everything went more or less back to normal, I started the notice it.

He rarely ever eats sweets – with one exception.

Dark chocolate.

It's not that he eats it without moderation – no, but usually he had a bar in his bedside table, and ate a tiny bit every day.

For me, I have never been a big fan of it, almost never ate is.

Yet, it was so sweet, the taste of dark chocolate on his lips.


	18. 017 Bird

017. Bird

POV: Rose

Word count: 116

Sometimes I wondered if animals can become shadow kissed.

There was that bird, that raven, which Lissa once brought back to life. He was somehow always around us, always in our vision, barely a presence, but still there.

He soon became a constant companion of us while we were in the Academy. He might have been a little bit spooky for others, but he still somehow calmed me down.

I don't know why it was this way – maybe because we both were brought back from the dead, and it made us kindred spirits.

Then when I left the Academy, I felt lost. I couldn't find the big, black, scary bird in the sky around me anymore.


	19. 018 Lipstick

**018. Lipstick **

**POV: Alberta**

Word count: 162

When the Dragomir Princess was kidnapped by Viktor Dashkov everything was so hectic, that nobody paid attention to the small details. We wanted clear facts, where to go, what to do – and we got them, from Guardian Belikov and Rose. Their story was easy to follow and made sense – even the part about the charm that made Rose attack Dimitri, made so that they wouldn't be in Dashkov's way. I believed that there was some kind of charm there, but something was off, and I had a feeling that this charm was a different kind.

As I said, nobody paid attention to the small details then – nobody but me. And I saw what I saw. Not that I mentioned this to the other Guardians. I had no need to make the situation more difficult than it already was, so I drew only Dimitri's attention to this little piece of evidence.

"There's lipstick on your neck. Wipe it away before somebody else notices."


	20. 019 Earth

019. Earth

POV: Victor

Word count: 128

Being an earth user, one is able to do a wide variety of things. I can make a flower bloom, reanimate dried-out trees, and make a plant grow bigger crops. These things are easy, but of course, there are more difficult things as well, like making the ground shake, breaking a rock into small pebbles, closing a fracture in the Earth's surface. Now, these things are hard to do, but not impossible – people have done it before me, more than once.

But to make two people, who already have a spark between them, a spark just about to catch fire, attack one another – with lips and soft caresses, not with harsh words and weapons - well, it is not only manageable, but rather amusing to watch as well.


	21. 020 Kitty

**020. Kitty**

A/N: Happy birthday, Doozey!

POV: Rose

Word count: 141

When we first moved in with Jeremy, he forgot to mention to us that he had a cat. A cute, fluffy, always purring cat – at least he looked like that at first. Really, he was a devil wrapped up in furs.

Actually, Lissa loved him. The cat would curl up in her lap and sleep there for hours while she was studying. But he hated me, which on one hand was understandable, but on the other was a little over the top. I swear, that cat not only hated me, but tried to kill me. I have evidence to prove it! A photo, taken by Lissa – she took it, because she thought that it was cute – the cat lying on my face, while I am sleeping.

I told you, he was trying to murder me.

Little devil wrapped up in furs.


	22. 021 Computer

**021. Computer**

**A/N: **From here on in, the drabbles are unbeta'd. As soon as I get the corrected versions, I'll replace them.

POV**: **Abe

Word count: 162

Whenever I turn my computer on and log in into my e-mail account, I expect a letter from Janine – a letter about Rose. About my daughter, whom I last saw when she was only a few days old. I know that we decided together with Janine that it would be the best if I kept out of Rose's life, but I can't help missing her and longing for knowing her.

There are only three letters I got about her, apart from Janine's stiff, Guardian-like reports about Rose's schoolwork every six months. One when she was in the accident. One when she run away from the Academy. And one when she was brought back.

And yet, as I open my account now, I am greeted by a new message from Janine about Rose.

She left again, and no-one knows where she is.

I decide instantly: she's eighteen – officially an adult. Our deal with Janine is off.

I am going to find my daughter.


	23. 022 Circa

**022. Circa**

**POV: **Rose

Word count: 115

Circa half a year ago I was brought back to the Academy. Circa two months ago a lost a dear friend and killed my first Strigoi. Circa two weeks ago I almost lost my future, when it was almost decided that I should drop out of the field experience. Circa a day ago I almost beat the crap out of Jesse Zeklos. A little less then circa a day ago I made love for the first time. Circa half a day ago the biggest battle this school – maybe the whole Moroi world – has ever seen, ended.

And in circa a hour, we will go into another battle.

Circa in four hours, I might be dead.


	24. 023 Almost

**023. Almost**

**POV:** Rose

Word count: 122

There are too many almosts in my life already.

I was almost killed in a car accident (okay, I actually died there, and then brought back to life). I was – more than once – almost expelled from the Academy. I almost had sex with my mentor while under a charm. I almost got into a pointless and fake relationship with one of my best friends. I almost had all my friends killed in Spokane. I was almost taken out of the field experience. I almost had my almost fairytale ending. The love of my life could almost get out of that cave unharmed.

And out of all of the above, only the last almost is the one I would do anything to erase.


	25. 024 Leaving

**024. Leaving**

**POV: **Dimitri

Word count: 107

I know I should leave. It would be easier, that's for sure. I would have an easier life, with a great person by my side, a life without secrets, without boundaries I am constantly tempted to break – I want to break. A life where I still could do what I live for – to protect people, to fight.

And there would be, of course, other… well, extras. Opportunities, which most dhampire men never get. Chance for a family – a real family, maybe, not just an unnatural half-one most dhampires get.

Yes, it would be the best if I left.

Yet, I can't bear the thought of leaving Rose.


	26. 025 Knowing

**025. Knowing**

**POV**: Yeva

Word count: 116

One would think that knowing the future is an amazing thing. But really, it is just a burden you have to carry. Because mostly the things I learn from my visions, dreams, or call them what you will, are usually what I don't want to know.

Like my daughter's partner, the father of her children, will beat her up again when he comes over, and she'll do nothing to prevent it. Like my granddaughter will end up suddenly pregnant and alone. Like my only grandson will be one of the living dead.

But sometimes I also see some good things to come. Like a girl, shining like a star, a warrior, with the promise of hope.


	27. 026 Blood

**026. Blood**

**POV**: Rose

Word count: 139

When you are living with vampires, after a certain amount of time, blood becomes something trivial.

You see it when the Moroi drink from their feeders. They even put it into their cocktails sometimes, and drink it just as casually like it was just an ordinary cocktail, with only alcohol in it to make them loose the edge.

And then when you fight, you see more blood. Your own scraped off knees and elbows. The blood of the Strigoi you stake. The blood of your colleagues, who fall in the battles.

It is just something you live with, get used to it. You don't – can't - give it too much though.

But when you got shot, and your blood flows from your body and your life is slipping away, it suddenly becomes the most important thing in the world.


	28. 027 Book

**027. Book**

POV: Rose

Word count: 134

Always those worn-out westerns, always them. Only after a few weeks of knowing him, I knew that he always had one of them with him. He read them in the gym, while he was waiting for me. On the plane, while we were travelling. In the Guardian's building, when he was off duty. I couldn't get what was so good about them. And anyway, hasn't he read all of those books already?

It wasn't after that we have been together for months, that one lonely afternoon, when he was away with Christian somewhere, I was alone in our apartment, and since I was bored, I picked up one of his books from the coffee table, where he'd left it the pervious night, and started reading.

And truth to be told, it really was good.


	29. 028 WalMart

**028. Wal-Mart**

**POV:** Adrian

Word count: 121

When I was younger, and I really needed a cigarette or a little bit of alcohol, but I couldn't get it any other way – let's say from classmates or paid down housemaids -, I used to sneak out to the nearest Wal-Mart. Of course, it caused another problem. I wasn't twenty-one yet – so couldn't buy this stuff legally.

But what was the source of my problem – the spirit and my need for numbness caused by it – offered the solution for the problem as well. Compulsion.

Just for you to know: the Wal-Mart staff is so easy to use compulsion on that they would think that you are way past twenty-one, that it always felt like stealing. I never even broke sweat.


	30. 029 Copier

**029. Copier**

**POV**: Rose

Word count: 131

After a few days of office duty, I announced my newest enemy – the copier.

While alphabetizing, categorizing and doing other stuff, I had my fair share of work with the copier as well. "Rose, copy all of these." "Rose, please, get me four copies of this." And it went on and on, and I started feeling exactly like a secretary. At least Hans didn't ask for coffee.

Then one morning as I got to the headquarters, I was welcomed with wonderful news: the copier had broken down. The Guardians tried to get it work, but they were no mechanics, and they could do nothing, but wait for the real repair man.

My enemy was out of commission for a while.

No more copying for me at least for a few days.


	31. 030 The day after tomorrow

**030. The day after tomorrow**

**POV:** Rose

Word count: 109

The day after tomorrow I'll be eighteen.

Two weeks ago I imagined it to be a happy occasion, with presents and smiles. Something to celebrate. I'm sure Lissa would have insisted on having a small party with our friends, and maybe even Dimitri would have been there, with one of his rare, relaxed smiles on his face. I might have even gotten a birthday kiss from him.

But now none of it will happen.

The day after tomorrow I'll officially be an adult. I'll be able to leave the Academy without anybody else's permission. I'll able to pursue – and hopefully kill – Dimitri.

It will not be a happy occasion.


	32. 031 Raven

**031. Raven**

**POV:** Lissa

Word count: 118

It was a bird – big, black, with shining feathers. A raven.

And it was dying.

I still don't know, even after more than two years, what happened back then. What happened to me. It was purely instinctive – holding out my hand, putting my palm on the feathers, and let my magic flow. It felt like a light you can not only see, but feel, hear and taste. It was amazing, breathtaking, magical.

Then the bird shook itself and flew away – it was healed.

And as funny as it is, the bird associated with death on so many occasions was the first sign that I could breathe life into the dead.

It was the first, but not the last.

**A/N: Sorry for the belated update. I was in the theatre this evening and didn't have time to upload the new drabble**


	33. 032 Water

**032. Water**

**POV: **Mia

Word count: 127

Nobody said it out loud, but it was all over their faces: water is completely useless against Strigoi. You can't stake, burn or behead them with water. You can't even suffocate them, because they don't really breathe, they don't need oxygen to survive. And first, I believed them. Okay, so water is useless, then I'll think about other ways to fight Strigoi, to revenge my mother.

Then the next thing I knew that we were in Spokane, and in the spur of the moment, I did use water against a Strigoi – and used it well. I couldn't kill him, of course, but I distracted him long enough so Rose could stake him.

I was so proud of myself. Well, who would say that water is useless now?

**A/N: I saw The Pirates of the Carribbean - On Stranger Tides today :) It was great :) Has anyone seen it? :)**


	34. 033 Coke

**033. Coke**

**POV: **Third person

Word count: 128

Lissa never drank coke. Never, ever, under any circumstances. When asked about it, she would always say that it is unhealthy, it yellows your teeth, damages your bones, and it tastes horrible anyways. After hearing this nobody asked – or dared to ask – more.

But the truth was that Lissa used to love coke – just as her brother used to love it. Andrei would always drink it pure, or spilled with wine or whisky, when he was at a party. He used to drink it while discussing with his little sister, and when Lissa was small, too small to have her own glass, sometimes he even let her to drink from his.

Then Andrei died in that car crash and Lissa lost her taste for coke for a lifetime.


	35. 034 Showing

**034. Showing**

**POV: **Rose

Word count: 125

When we found out that Lissa was pregnant, I was really, genuinely happy for her. Then a few weeks passed, and Lissa started showing slowly. At first, it was like she has just eaten a little bit too much. Then she couldn't fir into her trousers anymore, then she had to buy maternity clothes.

That was the point when I started to get jealous.

I have never thought about having children – but then, seeing my best friend about to have one, it dawned upon me that I could never have one – not with another Dhampire.

But I put on my happy face, his my jealousy in the darkest corner of my mind, and patted Lissa's small stomach.

Maybe I could be a godmother at least.


	36. 035 End

**035. End**

**POV: **Rose

Word count: 158

Standing here, watching Lissa saying those vows, while the crown is placed on her head, I feel like we have reached an end. After all, I have finished high school, travelled half of the world, fought Strigoi, and brought back to life one. I broke a criminal out of prison, just to – even though not on purpose - kill him afterwards. I have been accused to have killed the queen and after a very adventurous journey, I have managed to clean my name. Then I got my happy ending as well – at least as happy as my ending can be.

So, if my life was a play, the curtain should be going down now and I should be hearing the applause. If it was a movie, the credits should already be rolling and the audience should be leaving.

But my life neither of the above and it is not the end.

Only the beginning of a brand-new adventure.


	37. 036 Waking up

**036. Waking up**

**POV: **Rose

Word count: 122

Waking up in a hospital, surrounded by the penetrating smell of chemicals, wrapped in crispy, uncomfortable sheets, machines beeping next to your head is most definitely not a good thing. Especially when every part of your body hurts like hell.

At first, there's not one competent thought in your mind. Everything is hazy, and you can't think. Then you start to remember – the road, the darkness, the crash, the sudden light – and suddenly you are glad that you are alive.

But then when you are informed that everybody in the car you were in died, excluding your friend, but her parents and her brother are all gone, you want to go back to sleep, like sleeping could undo it.

But it can't.


	38. 037 Writing

**037. Writing**

**POV: **Dimitri

Word count: 125

"Dear Tasha,

As how generous and gracious your offer is, I am afraid I have to say no to you. It's not like that you are not an amazing person – and an amazing woman, too – because you are, and a great friend to me as well. Even a few months ago, I would have been happy to go with you, work for – with? - you. But the things have changed. I have changed, changed by a person you know. She is my life now, and realized that I couldn't bear leaving her. And she needs me, as well as I need her. Rose is…"

This won't work. I am giving away too much.

Screw writing a letter for her. I will tell her in person.


	39. 038 Lies

**038. Lies**

**POV: **Rose

Word count: 147

We all lie. There are little white lies – "I did my homework, but my dog ate it." "I don't know what happened to your chocolate." And there are big lies, like you say that you just want to help, but really, you just want to use the other person, who trusts you. Like Viktor did.

And then, there are the lies said in the name of love.

I do the last one a lot recently.

I lie to Lissa about whom I love. I lie to Dimitri, saying that I would be okay if he left with Tasha. I lie to Mason, saying that I could love him. And lastly, and most importantly, I lie to myself – saying that I could get over Dimitri, could forget him, because it is the best for the both of us.

But I could never be strong enough to do that.


	40. 039 Darkness

**A/N: Special double update today in honor of my roomie's 19th birthday! :) Happy birthday Judit!**

**039. Darkness**

**POV: **Lissa

Word count: 142

I live in the dark, and sleep when the sun is up. It's not that I chose this – this is what my kind does. The sun weakens us, draws the energy from us. But at the same time, the darkness means danger – when the moon is out, the Strigoi is out as well, hunting us, Moroi.

I remember what it was like when we lived among the humans with Rose – what it was like seeing the sun, feeling its light on my skin. I won't say that I don't miss it, because I do.

But in the end of the day, darkness is our friend. It is the time of the day when we can be aware of our natural enemies, when we are the strongest – strong enough to fight.

The only problem is, that with or without darkness, we never fight.


	41. 040 Rain

**N/A: Wow! :) 52 reviews for 39 chapters (plus the Introduction)! thank you, guys! :) Now, what if I offer a little reward for the person who submits the 100th review? :P**

**040. Rain**

**POV: **Adrian

Word count: 128

When I visit someone while they are asleep and create a dream for them, I make the weather almost without exception sunny and cheerful, rarely night, and never rainy. For a very long time I did it unintentionally, don't really thinking about what I was doing. Then one day I realized why was I doing it.

It was just after, well, Rose and I broke up. Or, more precisely, she dumped me for Belikov. It was early evening, only an hour or two into the night. I was standing in fort of the window, a glass of scotch in one hand, the other in my pocket, staring out of the window, but seeing nothing. And it was raining.

And then I knew – the rain washes the dreams away.


	42. 041 Car

**041. Car**

POV: Sydney

Word count: 121

Nearly nobody gets why I am into cars. Why am I feeling like I am in love when I see a really beautiful one. How can I appreciate a gleaming hood, or four spotless tires. How come that the purring of the engine is like music to my ears.

Most people understand when I say that I am interested in architecture. But when I tell them that I love cars just as well my mother does, they give strange stares. How can a tender looking girl like me interested in such a masculine thing?

Apparently, Rose doesn't get it either – but she accepts it.

And maybe, just maybe, she is just not that as evil as I thought her to be.


	43. 042 Thinking

**042. Thinking**

POV: Rose

Word count: 135

Thinking is a dangerous pastime – trust me, I know.

When I have too much free time and nothing to do, I start thinking. And as the result of it, I usually get crazy ideas. Which, being Rose Hathaway, I have to accomplish.

Let's see an actual example: back in eight grade I sprained my ankle during training once, and was sentenced to bed rest for days – so, I had plenty of time to think. And I thought: "Hey, what a fun would it be if I played a prank my lit teacher?" And so I did – I put tacks on his chair. And he sat on them. It was hilarious.

And it earned me a week worth detention.

Actually, most of my ideas coming from way too much thinking ended up in detention so far.


	44. 043 Fantasy

**043. Fantasy**

POV: Rose

Word count: 123

Whether I like it or not, I have been thinking a lot about the vision Avery had showed me in the past few weeks. I know it is no more than a fantasy, made up by a madwoman's mind – yet I find myself wishing it wasn't.

I mean, there is a slight chance that Dimitri is could be saved – and really saved, not just staked, freeing his soul. And maybe, just maybe, we could be together – we could even live together. We could be happy, living our simple, happy life.

But it is more likely that I can't save Dimitri, and that I will loose him forever.

But it is not over yet.

And until then, I can still live in this fantasy.


	45. 044 Happiness

**044. Happiness**

POV: Rose

Word count: 114

Through my life, there were many occasions when I though I was happy. For example, when I was partying with my classmates. Or when we were having fun with Lissa. Or when I was fooling around with a boy, or travelling, finally seeing the world outside of the Academy.

Yet, I never found the real happiness whatever I did, wherever I was, I know it now. I didn't found it – not until now.

Because now I am lying in Dimitri's arms, his face buried in my hair, his hands caressing me softly, absent-mindedly, while the rays of the setting sun is pouring in the window.

And finally I know I have found perfect happiness.

**A/N: Check out my new VA one-shot, titled An Exception Makes The Rule Stronger! :)**


	46. 045 Endurance

**N/A: Trust me to come up with something kinky for such a neutral word like that :D**

**045. Endurance**

POV: Rose

Word count: 124

When I was taken back to the Academy, my endurance was about as high as the threshold in my room at first. Then Dimitri started training me, and every morning started with ten laps. Then later fifteen laps accompanied with fifty push-ups, and the quantities kept growing. And I hated him for it – at first, at least. I wanted to fight – really fight, but I got none of it.

Then as the time passed, and I fell in love with him, and forgot about my morning tortures.

And now I reached the point where I am glad for those running sessions. Because now, when we are "sparring" – in bed – I can keep up with him, and go on for a very, very long time.


	47. 046 Old

**046. Old**

POV: Abe

Word count: 110

I have never thought about growing old – at least not about that I am growing old.

Look, even over forty, I am still in a great shape – no deuce caused by age, still as powerful – if not more so – as ten years ago, not a bit of grey in my hair. Yeah, I could still pass for a thirty-year-old. Almost, at least.

But then I meet my daughter – my almost-adult, eighteen years old daughter, who is just as beautiful as her mother was – how long ago was it? – about twenty years ago.

And she calls me "old man".

And I have to question myself – maybe I really am getting old.

**A/N: Have you checked my similiar drabbles about Glee yet? :)**


	48. 047 Beautiful

**047. Beautiful**

POV: Rose

Word count: 112

Months ago, back in the Academy, when we were still training, Dimitri always used tell me how beautiful Russia was, how would it amaze me. And I just laughed at him then – even though I regret doing it now. All I knew about Russia was that it is far away, and must be really cold there – and it didn't even interest me more.

But now, after everything, I am in Moscow, on the Red Square, looking at all the amazing buildings, with all those colors, the brick walls, the high cupolas, the cathedrals, and all the lights and all the people passing by…

And I have to admit – it is really beautiful.


	49. 048 High heels

**048. High heels**

POV: Rose

Word count: 126

High heels are not appropriate for a Guardian. They make your feet hurt, don't give you good enough balance, you can easily trip in them and sprain your ankle, can't kick with them on strong enough, can't run fast enough, and they break easily.

I know it, know it by heart.

And yet, as I am in the mall with Lissa, I am becoming enchanted with these shoes – black, strapy sandals, with about four inch stiletto heels. They are most absolutely a must have item.

I know that they are not suitable for my work, that most likely I could not even have anywhere to wear them, anything to wear them with – but I can't help wanting them.

This is the mystery of a woman's mind.


	50. 049 Gorgeous

**049. Gorgeous**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 130

After we had bought back the Dragomir Princess and her friend to the Academy, I heard the students use a wide variety of words to typify Rose. At first I wasn't interested in it, then started to get to know Rose, started to get, well, interested in her, so I tried to keep my ears open.

They called her cool, wild, troublemaker, dangerous.

These, I admit, were true. Yet not enough – there was more in her than that. She was brave, generous, often hot-headed, and had a heart of gold.

Her fellow students also commented on her exterior. They called her pretty, hot, scorching and sexy.

But these words were weak to describe her.

Because even if I am too scared to admit to even myself, but she is gorgeous.

**A/N: Long live the Summer vacation, which started today (at least for me :)). In honor of it, there's a double update today :)**


	51. 050 Human

**050. Human**

POV: Sydney

Word count: 118

"She's just a human."

They never said it out loud, but I could always see it in their eyes – both in the Guardians' and in the Moroi's eyes. They looked down on me. I think they also respected me some way, because I helped them, but it was always clear – I was not in the same league with them.

But I was never bothered by it – I never thought about myself as an equal with them anyway. They were twisted creatures, living in the dark, living off on blood, doing things only God should. They were evil by nature.

And they may look down at me for being human - but I am glad and proud to be one.

**A/N: Halfway! :) Thank you guys! :)**


	52. 051 Scared

**051. Scared**

POV: Mason

Word count: 172

The idea of a Guardian for me has always been one of someone who is never scared – so I never let myself to be scared.

I have always thought that it was a good policy, but then I jumped into this situation, now I know, without thinking.

At first I was just disappointed – after all, it seemed like we didn't find anything. Then those humans arrived, and we were captured. Even then, I wasn't really scared. Then we were held captive, and the Strigoi arrived, and we were threatened. Even then, I wasn't really terrified. I knew that we would get out. There was no reason to panic.

Then we really escaped, and we were almost out of the house, out into the sunlight - just a step or two.

And now, just outside the threshold, I am really scared.

Not for myself – for Rose, dear Rose, who is about to fight two Strigoi herself, all alone.

I make up my mind in a second, and turn back.

I can't loose her.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday, there was some kind of problem with in my area and I couldn't update because of it :S**


	53. 052 Jump

**052. Jump**

POV: Avery

Word count: 103

Just jump already.

Jump!

Jump, I command you!

I am doing everything, trying everything, yet she is still standing in the window, almost completely still, waiting.

Why isn't she jumping?

She has to – otherwise, she is no use to me. My plan will fail.

She must jump.

My plan can't fail. I have to carry on with it.

Yet she is still, motionless.

I have no more power than this – this has to be enough. It has always been enough until tonight – I could make her do anything.

And now?

What's happening?

No.

It can not be.

She is in her head again.


	54. 053 Try

**053. Try**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 124

I have never believed that our relationship with Rose could work out – because our age gap, because of the society we live in, because of our profession. All of it was a cosmic joke, really – something we both desired so bad, but could never get.

But as she is lying here, in my arms, so content, so happy, I have something I haven't had in quite a long time – hope.

Maybe we could work it out – maybe we could be together. In a few months, we are out of the Academy, we will in the Court, where is an ocean of opportunities. More flexible shifts. Less danger. It wouldn't be easy even then, but what is?

We will just have to try hard enough.

**A/N: Have checked out my new VA one-shot titled Brother Dearest yet? :)**


	55. 054 Music

**054. Music**

POV: Rose

Word count: 111

Back when I was still at the Academy, Dimitri's music used to irritate me.

It wasn't that it was so bad – it was so, so old and strange. But at least it provided me some material for my jokes.

But then a year passed, I moved to the Court, and we started living together, and so I heard a lot more of his music, and I grew accustomed with it. Not only accustomed, but it found its way into my ear, and into my heart.

Prince. Madonna's old tracks. Michael Jackson. U2. Tina Turner. Boney M. Abba.

And after some time, I found myself loving them as much as Dimitri did.


	56. 055 Money

**055. Money**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 129

Money, for me, has never been an issue – I have always had enough. How much? I never knew exactly – I didn't need to. Was it enough for my lifestyle? – It was everything I asked. Yes, it was, even more than that. It might have been enough to buy a smaller island or two. With inhabitants.

And I never really had to work for it. It came with my name, from my family, from our investments – really, scarcely any royals did any real jobs.

And, to be frank, I have always taken it granted - never really cared about it.

Then one morning Rose came to me, asking for money. And I gave her. A lot.

And the first time in my life I was really glad I had money.


	57. 056 Dance

**056. Dance**

POV: Rose

Word count: 151

When I was searching the clubs in Russia, looking for Strigoi – looking for Dimitri – I often wondered if Dimitri were there, would we have danced? Would have he held me close? Or would have we been just sitting in the corner?

Now I know the answers for my questions. Because now, a little bit over a year after our big adventure with Lissa's lost sibling ended, we go out sometimes. Definitely not often, but surely at least once in every month or so, when we have time – there is one little club in the Court we especially like.

And these times, we dance – or something like that. Dimitri is not big of a dancer – but we still go out to the dance floor, hold each other close, my arms around his neck, his on my waist, and we move to the music, swaying from side to side, just enjoying the moment…


	58. 057 Copy

**057. Copy**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 115

At first I didn't like Avery – she was just another burden on me. Then I started to get to know her – and she turned out to be nice, and I started liking her. She was fun to be around – a positive spirit, always up to mischief, to have fun, to drink.

She was just like Rose – not the Rose now, but the one whom I knew before my family died. The crazy Rose – well, she is crazy right now as well, but not in the same extent.

And even though I like to be around Avery, I am unable to love her like I do Rose.

Because Avery is no copy of my best friend.


	59. 058 Notes

**058. Notes**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 145

There came spring, and the spring cleaning came with it – and even though now we had staff to clean our rooms (advantages of your love being the queen's personal guard), I liked to sort through my stuff myself. And that's how I came through a cardboard box full of old notebooks on the floor of the wardrobe.

Opening it curiously, I found out that they were Rose's old notebooks back from the Academy. I picked up one randomly, and flipped it open, looking at the pages – and let me tell you, they were interesting. Not because of the actual notes – most of them were rather slim – but because of the side notes: little doodles, switched notes with Lissa…

They really were something to be interested in.

I closed the box, and put back to its place – but promised myself to get it out again, soon.


	60. 059 Dreams

**059. Dream**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 130

You would think that I have a bunch of reasons to be jealous of Ivashkov – he comes from a great family, he's rich – even though it can't really bother me -, and above it, he is free. At least freer than me. Free to decide entirely about his life, free to travel, free to love who he wants.

Free to love Rose.

Yet, the thing I envy the most is that he can visit dreams, anybody's dreams. Even Rose's dreams.

And surprisingly what maddens me the most it's not the fact that he can visit the dreams of the woman I love, but that I can't.

Because in a dream, unlike real life, there are no consequences.

And there are things I'd like to do which would have horrible consequences.

**A/N: I didn't think that the last drabble would make your imaginations run so much :P Also, there's only nine reviews to go till 100, so let1s see the little reward I mentioned some time ago :P So - drumrolls, please - whoever writes the 100th review gets a one-shot of their choice, on their idea, written by me :) Details on my profile**


	61. 060 Profile

**060. Profile**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 114

When I first got to the St. Vladimir, I got the assignment of bringing back Princess Vasilissa and Rose. With the assignment I got their profiles as well.

Vasilissa's was quite, well, boring. Spotless records. Great grades. Taken part in the Academy's social life. It was just the way a future leader's should be.

Rose's was more interesting. Admissible grades. Poor discipline. Attitude problems. Involvement in fights.

But other than that, I thought I had her figured out. Back then, I thought she was just an ordinary angry teen, who wanted to express herself to the world by rebelling against the system.

Then I met her, and realized that I knew nothing of her.

**A/N: I have some bad and some good news for you guys. Bad, that most likely the story I have promised, titled Double-edged Sword won't be up until August - but I hope you'll like my reasonsto do so :) It is going to belated because I have decided to take part in Zutara Week 2011 :) So looks out for seven Avatar - The Last Airbender stories in July :) (I'll most likely post something in that fandom before it) Until then I have some How to train your Dragon fics written - anyone interested? :) Also, the good news: we have our winner :) I'll write the promised one-shot on ShineDine's idea :) **


	62. 061 Forum

**061. Forum**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 130

For a long very long time I didn't know that the St. Vladimir had an online forum for the students. Actually, I only learned it after moving to the Court, and even then it was almost like an accident.

The school year had just started, when one evening I found Rose in front of the computer. Curious of what she was doing, I stepped behind her, reading the monitor over her shoulder. She was reading this forum, more precisely the topic on the new school year. When she realized I was there, she beckoned me to sit beside her, and when I did so, she opened another topic.

To my complete and utter surprise, it was about me.

At least then I learned where this whole god-thing had come from.


	63. 062 Friend

**062. Friend**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 117

I've always considered myself as one of the best friends in the world. There were no signs to think otherwise – I had a friend whom I loved dearly, and who always swore up and down that her goal in life was to protect me, her best friend. I thought we had no secrets, nothing we couldn't tell the other. I thought she didn't feel remorse for the life that was ahead of her as my guardian.

Then the attack happened, and we lost Dimitri. And in some sense, Rose too.

And only then I realized how much I'd missed. How much I'd neglected my best friend.

That I was one of the worst friends in the world.


	64. 063 Group

**063. Group**

POV: Rose

Word count: 108

These unpromised kids I have allied with hunted in a group – but didn't act like a group.

They were reckless, unorganized, but had good abilities – all in all, they resembled much like me, the way I was about a year ago. There was only one difference between us: I always paid attention to Lissa. They never paid attention to each other, and that's why their group always got smaller and smaller.

And that is what had to be changed – and I was there to change it. As Dimitri once made me correct my mistakes, I'll do the same with them.

I will make a real team of them.


	65. 064 Signature

**064. Signature**

POV: Tatiana

Word count: 110

Sometimes it only takes a signature to save a life. To save somebody from becoming an outlaw. To separate a family. To sends many to their deaths. To ruin lives.

And that's what I am about to do now.

I am sending sixteen year olds to a war – to the frontline.

I am trying not to feel bad about it, telling myself it is the smaller bad. That it is still better than forcing every dhampire into service.

But I can't help it – I feel like doing a grave mistake.

Yet, I must do it.

I pick up my pen and sign the papers.

Now, the new law is valid.


	66. 065 Night

**065. Night**

POV: Rose

Word count: 138

Night, to be honest, is a relative thing.

In my whole life, I considered the night to be starting when the sun came out – it was the end of the Moroi day, and the time for me to go to bed. Since I had always - or at least ever since I could remember - lived in the Academy, it was the normal way for me, so it seemed natural. Then we escaped with Lissa, and started living as humans do. The night and the day switched, and we slept during the real night, when the moon shone. Then two years later we were dragged back, and everything shifted back to "normal".

And now, after the attack, when everybody is mourning somebody, and the sun is out, and everybody is awake… It still feels like it is night.

**A/N: Sorry for the belated update :S There's some kind of problem with my account going on, an so I haven't been able to sing in properly for days :S These newest drabbles are being uploaded by my great friend, Judit. Thank you, girl! **


	67. 066 Life

**066. Life**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 109

Life is a fragile thing.

Everyone takes it granted – some constant thing which is hard to loose.

But they are wrong.

I first learnt it when I lost my family in that accident – my parents, my brother, whom I couldn't bring back to life like I did Rose. At least she was there for me, over my grief, and helped me to learn to treasure my life.

And now the whole Academy has learned how fragile life really is. We were attacked, under the veil of the night, and many died. Guardians, teachers, classmates, friends.

Now everybody is frightened and grief-stricken.

But at least, now they will treasure life.


	68. 067 Paper

**067. Paper**

POV: Rose

Word count: 119

We have been together for years, in good times and bad, through sickness and health, and even death could not take us apart. Yet, we have never thought of getting married.

Where he came from, it wasn't really in custom – in the dhampire community males rarely had steady relationships, and females mostly had Moroi lovers. And for me, marriage has never been an option – I have never been a girl with dreams of a big white gown and flowers, and I have never thought I would have someone as wonderful as Dimitri to love.

So we had this silent settlement – we didn't need to get married to be happy.

After all, marriage was nothing but a piece of paper.


	69. 068 Grass

**068. Grass**

POV: Mia

Word count: 145

It's lucky that dad is not really interested in doing laundry, nor can he operate the washing machine properly. Oh, and let's not to forget that he usually doesn't pay attention to what I am wearing.

Because ever since have I moved to the Court, I train every day. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Guardians who are working at the Court. Sometimes I work on my magic, sometimes on my moves, kicks and punches. But truth to be told, I am not really good and so, I sometimes fall. Okay, more than sometimes. And since we usually train outdoors, I fall on the grass, and so my clothes often grass-stained.

So it's pure luck that dad doesn't pay attention to my clothes, and that this new detergent cleans the stains completely.

Because he doesn't know about my training, and I want it to stay this way.


	70. 069 Shower

**069. Shower**

POV: Rose

Word count: 127

When I was still back at the Academy, I often fantasized about taking a shower with Dimitri. I know it's kind of… kinky, but hey, what were you expecting from me? Of course, then there was no point in hoping that this fantasy would become reality some day.

Then we moved to the Court, started living together, waking up together. And I always, every single day, tried to persuade him to take a shower with me. He always declined, on every single occasion. Not because he didn't want to do so, or didn't want me - but because if he did so, we both knew it very well, we would have never made it to work in time.

But when we will take off few days together…

**A/N: I simply don't get it… wouldn't work with my home net connection, but when I plug in my mobile net, it works perfectly… I think I'll have to phone the internet company…**


	71. 070 Singing

**070. Singing**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 132

Before my family died, I loved singing. I would sing several times a day, and I would sing anything I could think of: from current hits to Russian folk songs. Mum and dad loved to listening to me, and Andrei often called me his little singing bird. Oh, and Rose often suggested – jokingly – that I should enter a talent show, but I always declined laughing, saying that I wasn't that good.

Then came the accident, and I didn't feel like singing for a really long time. At first, I was mourning, then we were on the run, then I was troubled by the spirit's side effects… there never was time nor place for singing.

But now, right after the coronation – my coronation – I feel like singing, for the first time in years.


	72. 071 Fame

**071. Fame**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 131

I have never wanted to be famous, and I managed in accomplishing it quite well for fifteen years. Then my family died, and I suddenly became a thing. The last living Dragomir. Somebody to feel sorry for. Somebody to write articles about. You can't imagine how relieved I was when we escaped from the Academy, and suddenly I became nothing more than a face in the crowd. I literally became nobody. And I was glad for it, because this way I was left alone.

Then we were back to the Academy, and I was the celebrity again. And I hated it.

Then Mia and her clique started to torment Rose, and I had to do something.

That was the time when I realized that I could use my fame for something.


	73. 072 Talent

**072. Talent**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 133

At first, when I requested Rose not to be expelled, I had no personal feelings for her. Back then I only saw one thing: a talented Guardian-to-be about to be wasted. Because she had talent, it was clear from the very first moment. From the moment when she stood up against me, trying to protect the princess, still hazed and unstable from the bite. She was unable to hold her balance, yet I saw the grace and the skill in her movements. Even then, I knew that she was one of the most talented novices I have ever met.

And there are so few of us nowadays – we can't afford to loose someone like her, I knew.

So I volunteered to tutor her – if only I knew then what I was volunteering for…

**A/N: There are three things I have to tell you today – firstly, I put up a poll on my profile. Please, would you answer the question there? It would mean a lot to me :) Secondly, from here on in, I'll post things about my writings and about their progress (as well as other interesting stuff :P) on my Tumblr account: orlissa[dot]tumblr[dot]com. You can also ask anything from me there – feel free to do so! Thirdly: I uploaded my first How To Train Your Dragon one-shot what I promised eons ago. :P You can find it on my profile. **

**Sorry for the looong A/N :) **


	74. 073 Lesson

**073. Lesson**

POV: Rose

Word count: 117

_When you know you can't win, run._

_Never turn your back to your opponent._

_Never hesitate._

Lessons I hardly ever took seriously. I always thought that when I would finally out in the real world, I would instantly know what to do. I knew how to kill a Strigoi. How to defect a bow. How to aim a kick. I thought that it would be enough. I thought that I could stay alive using only the moves drilled into my mind and my instincts.

Then I found Dimitri – Dimitri the Strogoi, the twisted, cruel, bloodthirsty Dimitri.

And after some injuries and unconsciousness caused by him, I realized that I really needed to remember and use these lessons.

**A/N: Thank you for the four people who answered the poll on my profile so far. Please, everybody else, could you check it out? Thank you! Also, has anybody read my How To Train Your Dragon one-shot? Should I upload the others as well? **


	75. 074 Words

**074. Words**

POV: Rose

Word count: 121

Love fades. Mine has.

Four words. Four syllables. Sixteen letters. Nothing more, nothing less.

And really, they're nothing. They are just words. They shouldn't be able to hurt me. They aren't even written down, just said out loud, easy to forget, easy to mishear. And they might have been just parts of other sentences, really. Like: Love never fades. Mine has grown.

But no, they were said out loud exactly this way: Love fades. Mine has. Not other words in the sentences. They signal the end of something – something so important to me, something I can never bring back.

And they might only be words, only spoken words, what shouldn't be able to hurt me… yet, they have broken my heart.

**A/N: Okay, I might have made a really big mistake in this story: I have no idea if in English the syllables are counted by the actual letters, or the sounds pronounced? Please, correct me if I got it wrong in the drabble. Also: I have uploaded my second HtTYD one-shot :)**


	76. 075 Black

**075. Black**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 116

One's aura says a lot about the person. Everyone's aura has many colors, and the ratio of these colors, as well as the brightness of the aura, tells a lot about the person. Each color means different things: red means rage. Yellow happiness. Green fear. Blue sadness. Orange… well, orange usually means lust. They are, after all, easy to read.

But then here is this girl. Of course, her aura has the usual colors: little blue, some red, a great deal of green and yellow, mixed up with a pinch of orange. But then there's something I have never seen before: black. Black all over the edges. Black tainting everything.

I wonder what it could mean.

**A/N: only 25 left… Oh, and I have a question for you: I have a VA sot-off-one-shot written (sort of prequel for An Excpetion make The Rule Stronger). Very fluff, a little be humorous, may contain OOC characters, and a tiny bit kinky. Should I touch it up and upload it?**


	77. 076 Heat

**076. Heat**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 131

When I was a Strigoi, I didn't feel hot or cold. Everything seemed to run on the same temperature: the air I breathed, the blood I drank, the bed I laid in with Rose, her skin I kissed… no difference. I wish I could say I missed feeling hot and cold – but I did not. It was a miniscule thing then to me, dwarfed by the excitement of the hunt, the taste of the blood, the pride of the kill.

But then in that warehouse, in the heat of the fight – even there, the heat – Vasilisa set me on fire. And for the first time in months, I felt the heat.

And even though I was burning and screaming in pain, deep down, I was glad to feel, really feel, again.

**A/N: The one-shot I mentioned two days ago is up :)**


	78. 077 Telephone

**077. Telephone**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 117

This could not be happening.

Ozera, Ashford, Rinaldi, Castile – all gone. Along with Rose, of course – I shouldn't even be surprised. No-on knows where they are, even though we have a slight idea when they left. Search parties have already been sent out, but there are no results so far.

Of course, we tried to contact them – in vain, I think I don't have to add. Ozera left his cell in his room. Rinaldi's turned off, we can't even locate it. Ashford and Castile don't have one.

Neither has Rose.

I rake my fingers through my hair, worried.

I swear, if Rose gets out of it alive, I'll get her a phone. And will make sure that it's always on.

**Edit: maddie5558 has pointed out that I left poor Eddie out :S Sorry, Eddie, I have completely forgotten you! :( Thank you Maddie! :)**


	79. 078 Shopping

**078. Shopping**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 129

The mall has never held any appeal for me. Shop next to shop, trying aggressively to sell their products, and crowd, so huge that you can barely move. It's almost suffocating.

And yet, right now I am glad to be here. Just to stand on the sidelines, paying attention to the surroundings, yet seeing and hearing everything the girls are doing. Browsing through racks, sometimes holding up an item they like, chatting, giggling. Doing something they haven't been able to do for quite some time.

And I have to admit, it's really entertaining to watch them. Something I could do the whole day. But first, I have an item to buy as well.

Now, I'll just have to figure out how to do that so the girls won't notice.

**A/N: Wow, guys, thank you :) yesterday my stories had 868 hits! That's a record! :) Oh, and a question: is anyone of you from London?**


	80. 079 Work

**079. Work**

POV: Rose

Word count: 141

I have always known that as soon as I am out of the Academy, I'll be working. But I have always thought that it will be a real work, a real, active work. Like actual fighting and protecting and guarding.

But, of course, no. Because – again, of course – I had to do something stupid and completely illegal, but otherwise absolutely heroic thing, resulting in punishment. Real punishment, not the kind of I got back at the Academy. No, this time I am sentenced to dig, hack, plant flowers, and the worst – do the alphabetizing.

Believe me, this is the worst form of work – because you're sitting behind the desk for twelve hours, and you're bored out of your mind, and all you see for hours is papers and papers…

I wish I could back to one of Stan's detentions right now.


	81. 080 Fight

**080. Fight**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 123

My life has been a constant fight for years.

Not actual, one-to-one fight like Rose's battles, but fight nonetheless. Fight with the spirit, so I won't go mad, so I won't do any damage to myself. Fight with the society. Fight with my classmates. Fight against the queen's wishes. But all of them have been mental or verbal. Never actual, physical fight.

Not until now, when I am standing face to face with Reed, with a voice – Rose's – in my head telling me what to do. I am panicking – I can't do it, I can't throw a punch!

Then I do it, my hand collides with Reed's face – and I feel his nose crack.

Okay, maybe I can fight. Just a little bit.


	82. 081 Feel

**081. Feel**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 145

When I was turned back to a dhampire, at first it was overwhelming. Because when I was a Strigoi, my feelings were blurred. I had a distant idea of how should feel about a person or a thing. What I should love, and what I should think that doing is wrong.

Then the change happened, and suddenly I was flooded with these emotions, but it was like when you come out of the dark to the harsh light, and you're blinded. Yes, it's the good word: I was blinded. Blinded so I thought I lost the ability of loving somebody. To really feel, when at the same time I was feeling so much.

It took time – weeks – to my eyes to adjust to the light, and really see again. To realize I can not only feel and love, but do it more intensely than before.

**A/N: Now I am on Twitter! You can find me under the name Orlissa**


	83. 082 Breathing

**082. Breathing**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 159

All I have been doing for the last six hours is watching her breathing. Making sure she does breath.

The doctors are optimistic – the bullet didn't reach any important organ and the operation went smoothly, even if it lasted more than three hours. And she is young and strong, they keep on saying. Yet she has lost a lot of blood, and no-one seems to know what to expect exactly. To make the matters worse, the royals are reluctant to let Lissa near her. Even if they did so, the doctors wouldn't let Lissa to heal her – yet, at least. They're afraid that it would do more damage than good.

So all I can do is wait. I was told that the first twenty-four hours is the riskiest, after it's over, everything will be much clearer, surer. And the quarter of it is up, and her heartbeat and breathing are steady and strong.

Just let it remain this way.

**A/N: Hi guys! :) I will be off to Italy for a week from now, and won't be able to update. But don't worry! I asked my best friend, Judit – do you remember her? – to do the uploading while I am gone. You will be nice to her, m'okay? :) So the drabbles will go on without trouble, but I won't be able to answer you pms and review, or upload bigger things till I am back. **


	84. 083 Waiting

**083. Waiting**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 111

I hate waiting.

Or, more precisely, I hate waiting for something I don't know when will happen. Just like now: I want Rose to return. I am waiting for her constantly, and even though I visit her dreams sometimes, and always ask, never get concrete answers. I don't know where she is, not even what time zone she is in. I don't know what she is exactly doing – even though I have some ideas. And most importantly, when will she come back to me. She'll come home, she keeps on saying, but never says when. Maybe next week, maybe next year. Maybe never.

That's the option I don't want to consider.


	85. 084 Voting

**084. Voting**

POV: Rose

Word count: 122

It's sheer madness.

Twelve people, only twelve people, so full of themselves – and they are the ones who decide about my future, about the future of my whole kind. They don't know us, and if I want to be honest with myself, I don't think they consider us as people, as their equals. We, dhampires, are just tools in their hands. Slaves, used only to protect them. Not comrades in the battle against Strigoi, like it should be.

This thought angers me so much, me, who vowed to spend my life protecting them.

And they are about to vote, vote for this new law, which will cost many young dhampires their lives.

Something must be changed.

If only I had a vote.


	86. 085 Win

**085. Win**

POV: Rose

Word count: 184

It started out as a little game for us back in the Academy. One day, while I was running my laps outside, with Dimitri by my side, something got into me.

"Race you!" I called and took off, as fast I could. He was in a good mood that day, and accepted my little challenge. He outran me pretty soon, and beat me with a few meters at the end of the lap. That day, he said, because he won, I had to do twice as much push ups as usually. I grumbled, but did my double.

We repeated our little race the next day, and the next, and the next, until about two weeks later, I won for the first time. That day, he forwent my pushups. And so this little game became our routine.

Now, after all our troubles are over, Lissa is crowned the queen, and Dimitri is turned back to dhampire, we do this again, every morning when we have the opportunity for it.

Only, the reward is no foregone push ups now, if you get what I am saying.


	87. 086 Camping

**086. Camping**

POV: Christian

Word count: 151

I really love Aunt Tasha, I really do. She's the one who brought me up, who tucked me in when I went to bed, bandaged my bruised knee, came to my school plays, taught me how to use my magic, offered me my very first glass of alcohol. Okay, forget the last one.

But there are times, when I am very close to hate her. Just like now. I mean, I get that she's into "rough stuff", like martial arts and offensive magic and target shooting, but this is simply over the top. Because her newest idea – what idea! Obsession – is that we should go camping. Just the two of us. She has already bought a tent and is about to find a good campsite.

It doesn't matter how I love her – camping is just something I won't do.

Now, I'll just find the perfect excuse why I am not going.


	88. 087 Communicating

**087. Communicating**

POV: Rose

Word count: 138

Over the years, I have used many ways and kinds of communication.

Mostly, I kept in touch with my mother via e-mails. I exchanged witty remarks with Mason. I usually shouted with Stan. I had this one-way thing with Lissa. I met Adrian in my dreams. All of these seemed good enough – well, okay, the e-mails and the shouting are maybe not that good.

But then there's Dimitri. With him, we rarely need words to understand each other. A half-sentence, a caught glance here, an unfinished movement there, and we instantly know what to do. It's so good to have somebody who gets you at this level, I can't even find words to describe it.

So, if you would ask me, what my favorite kind of communication was, I would say that the one I have with him.


	89. 088 Guessing

**088. Guessing**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 163

I have no idea where Rose might be – all I can do is guess.

Adrian can usually visit her around the time when we should be sleeping, so she might be near. Of course, "near" is a really relative thing. She could be down south in Argentina right now. I know that she is after Dimitri, and it's only logical, that a Strigoi would go where currently the least sunlight is. Or maybe she is closer, and she is in New Orleans – all the woo-doo and magic aren't just some play there. Strigoi has always lived there in great numbers. Then, of course, she could be in the other side of the world on human schedule, just as Adrian suggested. After all, Dimitri used to live there, and it's sensible on one level that he would want to go back there.

But at the end of the day, all we do is guessing, and we still have no idea where Rose might be.


	90. 089 Rich

**089. Rich**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 133

Many people envy me because I am rich. Yes, it's true: I have money. Much money.

At the same time, I am alone. I hardly have any real friends. The girl I am in love with has left me for somebody else, somebody I thought – or at least hoped – she is over with. Most likely, I will go mad in a couple of years, or, if I won't, I'll die young because of all the drinking and smoking I do. I can even imagine that I'll commit suicide first – you know, during a crazy fit. Oh, and did I mention that no-one takes me seriously and I don't know what to do with my life? At least what I still have of it?

So, let me ask you: who is really rich then?


	91. 090 Sad

**090. Sad**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 124

I have never seen her really sad before. She is a rather positive person. Yes, she is often angry, and irritated, and then she grumbles, she tries to do everything using only raw power, and it's almost impossible to take up with her then. Yet, more often than not, she is smiling through all of it, cracking insane jokes, seemingly without any care for the world.

But now, after Spokane, she is not herself. She is mourning. She hardly speaks and never smiles. And I hate seeing it. She is not the girl I know, not the girl I love. I know it's hard for her, and I'd do anything to help her.

Because I don't want to see her being sad anymore. Never.


	92. 091 Compromise

**091. Compromise**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 124

When I started taking my antidepressants, it seemed like a fair compromise. Yes, I could not use my magic, but the madness caused by it couldn't reach me either. I could live my simple, mostly undisturbed life.

Then I started to miss it – really miss it. I wanted to use it again. I wanted to help, wanted to heal. Of course, that was the very moment when Adrian decided to enter my life. He was only fuel to the fire. He tempted me with his abilities – seeing the people's auras, visiting their dreams. I wanted to be able to do that as well. I wanted to learn.

But I couldn't – because of those damned pills.

Suddenly, this whole compromise didn't seem that fair anymore.

**A/N: I am back! :) Italy was lovely – blog posts about it will be up on my Tumblr shortly (Orlissa . tumblr . com) Also, we are starting the countdown – there are only nine drabbles left!**


	93. 092 Feather

**092. Feather**

POV: Rose

Word count: 138

I didn't know that Dimitri was ticklish – but he is, believe me, you only have to find the right spots - for a very long time, until that very morning.

In our suit, in Lissa's, well, "palace", all the pillows and duvets were filled with – what else? – feathers. And on the aforementioned morning, I found one of the feathers sticking out of my pillow. I pulled it out, twirling it between my fingers, and then a devilish thought came to my mind. I turned to the still sleeping Dimitri, and ran the feather along his forearm. Nothing. I ran it over his biceps – still nothing. I grazed it over his armpit – not a tremble. Then, as I ran it along his ribs, he switched and his eyes flew open.

I made a mental note to remember that spot.

**A/N: I went to see the last Harry Potter movie with my friend Judit today. I only missed three things from it: loyalty to the story, logic, common sense (Severus says the blue-eyed Daniel-Harry that he has his mother's eyes, then we see the little Lily, who has brown eyes… for exemple.) But I liked Ron and Seamus's one-line jokes :) Anyone wants to talk about the movie?**


	94. 093 Rainbow

**093. Rainbow**

POV: Rose

Word count: 119

I think it is said that after the storm comes the rainbow. Or was it in a song? I can't remember. It doesn't even matter.

Well, I – my life – have been in a storm, and I came out alive, but barely. I have been injured, severely, and a part of me, a part of my soul, has even died, died with him. I have had many fights during my storm – fights with Strigoi, with Dimitri especially, fights with myself, fights for my friends. I have even had a fight where I haven't even been technically present. But what really is important, I am in one piece, still breathing, ready to go on with my life.

So… where's my rainbow?

**A/N: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me… :)**


	95. 094 White

**094. White**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 138

While I was paying for the gas, Rose has wandered off to somewhere. I wasn't worried – it was broad daylight, and I knew that she must be nearby. I circled the station, looking for her, and suddenly, I was surrounded by infinite whiteness. All the mountains and valleys, as far as I could see, were covered in pure, untouched snow. It was a breathtaking sight.

Well, the snow was only almost-untouched - I soon noticed a small trail of footsteps leading deeper into the snow, and the end of it, there lay Rose. She was a little colorful spot in the all-consuming whiteness.

I almost chuckled at the thought of it – because I saw my whole life laid out in front of me. Almost everything bland, white, untouched, with a little colorful, exciting spot in the middle: Rose.


	96. 095 Coffee

**095. Coffee**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 145

I really start to think that for some people the morning doesn't start until they had their first cup of coffee. Right, many of them pretty decent even before it – like Rose or Dimitri. I have never seen them being groggy before their first cup of coffee, but most likely it's a Guardian thing. Or simply they have other methods to wake up, methods of which I don't think I want to know about. Adrian is a little bit more difficult, but still pretty decent in the mornings – but let's not forget to mention here, that he drinks his coffee with some extra contents.

And then there's Christian. Have you ever tried to talk to him in the morning before he had his coffee? Good. Because it's hopeless. All you would get is grumbling, unintelligible muttering and more grumbling.

But still, it's kind of cute.


	97. 096 Veil

**096. Veil**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 117

Remembering now, being a Strigoi was like I was watching the world around me through a veil. I saw everything around me, I knew what I was doing, yet it was like I was wrapped tightly in a dense veil, unable to move, and looking through it, but seeing only blurred shapes. My picture of the world, of good and bad, of right and wrong, was blurred. Even if I did know what I should do, what would have been the right thing to do, this veil was so tight around me, so suffocating, I couldn't do anything.

And it was only after the veil was lifted from me that I realized what I had really done.

**A/N: Zutara week has started! :) make sure to check out me entries! The first one, written for the prompt "mask" is already up under the title Masks We Wear**


	98. 097 Gloves

**097. Gloves**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 125

Back on that day, when I treated her hands in the gym, they really looked miserable. Dry, chipped, bleeding – even looking at them almost hurt. It was not the condition her hands should have been in. They were delicate, little hands, not created for fight, but rather for soft caresses. Yet, she was a warrior, a real warrior, and I loved her for this even then, but I couldn't help feeling that this shouldn't be this way.

If it was up to me, she would have been treated like a princess, like she deserved. Spoiled and looked after, every of her wishes fulfilled. But, in that situation, in that society we were in, all I could do was to get her a pair of gloves.

**A/N: Today's prompt for Zutara Week is History – and I really like this entry :)**


	99. 098 Umbrella

**098. Umbrella**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 146

I swear, Christian is like a cat sometimes – at least when water is involved. It's not like he doesn't like to swim, or has problem with taking a shower. No, but he hates getting wet in general – maybe it has to do something with being a fire user. I even have a story, when the four of us – Christian, Rose, Dimitri and me – had the leave the Court for some diplomatic meeting, and the very first morning of our trip, Christian wouldn't get up. Rose got enough, lost her temper, and splashed him with a glass of water. Now, it was something to see.

Yet, the worst for him is the rain. He hates it with passion, and when it rains, and he gets wet, he also gets really grumpy. But really, it's okay. I just had to learn to always have an umbrella with me.

**A/N: Today's prompt for Zutara Week is social networking… difficult prompt, and I still have to finish it… pray, my dear, that I'll be able to finish it before the day is over…**


	100. 099 Pale

**099. Pale**

POV: Rose

Word count: 120

Usually, the first thing you notice about Moroi is that they are pale. I heard on more than one occasion members of the unsuspecting human staff of a restaurant or a hotel ask a Moroi customer if he or she was okay, because they were concerned how pale the Moroi was. It is funny, for the first two or three times, then it simply goes old. Also, living with Moroi you simply get used to their paleness, and stop to think about it.

But when a Moroi friend of yours gets sick – with not even with something serious, only, let's say, the vampire equivalent of common cold, and she really gets pale, almost like a ghost – now, that's really scary.

**A/N. Only one more to go, guys… or maybe not? I don't know. By the way, right now, this story has 139 reviews – can we pump it up to 150 by tomorrow night? :P Now, it's a challenge, dear readers! :)**

**To the ones who "prayed" for me yesterday – in the end, I got to publish the story for the day two hours late. But never mind, at least it is done :D You can find it on my profile, under the title Women's Writing. Today prompt's "secret", and my entry will be up shortly :)**


	101. 100 Chippendale

**100. Chippendale**

POV: Rose

Word count: 129

This is pure torture.

He came in when his shift ended, and started his evening routine. He took off his shoes, then came into the bedroom for something. He went out, and when he came back for the next time, he was peeling his shirt off. And I watched the whole ordeal from my position, sitting on our bed.

Doing these completely everyday things, he got me all hot and bothered. And what's the worst? He isn't even trying.

Finally, as he was about to take off his jeans, he noticed that I was silent, and couldn't take my eyes off him.

"What?" He asked, smiling. This called for a witty Rose Hathaway remark.

"Have you ever thought about making a fortune by doing Chippendale?"

He just laughed, wholeheartedly.

**A/N: This was one of my favorites to write :) With this, I am saying goodbye, guys – I am leaving for London today. Oh, and don't forget to check out my new How to Train Your Dragon fic, The Whore!**


	102. The end?

The End?

Not necessarily! I really enjoyed the last three months (four, if you count the time when I was writing these drabbles), and I wouldn't be against the continuation – but I've run out of prompts. So here's my deal for you guys: send me prompts in pm, and I'll continue this :P I can promise daily updates, but I can keep going on.

Until then, check on me often, 'cause I am planning to write and publish a few things:

The Whore – aforementioned HtTYD fanfic, about an unlikely friendship Hiccup had before toothless. First chapter is up, I plan to write four or five more.

The remaining prompts for Zutara Week – Awkward, Legendary, Caught. I don't know when will I able to finish Awkward, but expect the other two this weekend.

Secrets Among The Palace Walls – rather long Avatara – The Last Airbender one-shot about the lives of the member of the Fire Nation royal family. Rather scandalous, featuring multiple pairings.

Untitled reward one-shot for ShineDine – surprise!

Double-Edged Sword – full-length VA fanfic, planned to be about 30 chapters. This, too, let be a surprise :)

By, guys, take care!

Love

Orlissa


	103. 101 Lipgloss

**101. Lip-gloss**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 157<p>

She usually wears hardly any make-up – only that little, shiny lip-gloss. Actually, she makes a show about it – as if it was the closing accord of our practices, as soon as we finish the exercises, she walks to her bag, fishes out the little, infuriating tube, and smears its contents to her lips.

I admit, at first I found this habit annoying – in the beginning, I saw it only like it was a form of rebellion for her, just to show how much she didn't care – but it lasted for only a few days, though. Then I realized that it was her way to maintain some of her feminity. After that, I realized how nicely the light reflected on her lips just after just after she put her lip-gloss on, how full and soft and inviting it made her lips look.

Yeah, after some time, I started to wait for this kind of closure of our trainings.

**A/N: I am back! :) And I have to remind you: if you want to more chapters, you have to send me prompts – words only. Leave it to be my task to think up a story about them, okay? :) You can send in as many words as you want. But only in private massage! By the way, I have been in London since Saturday, and the city is lovely. And it seems like I'll be able to go and see Wicked :P**


	104. 102 Molnija

**102. Molnija**

POV: Rose

Word count: 140

When I was little – okay, even a year ago – I saw molnijas as the badges of honor. Something that shows how brave and powerful we are, like they were the dhampire equivalent of IQ.

But today, I see everything differently – and no, I am not talking about the heartache that accompanies my tattoos. I am talking about that I have realized that these markings on our necks are nothing more than brands, not unlike the numbers on a race horse. We are branded to let the Moroi see how good we are – what a great Guardian is in their possession, or how good is the new bodyguard they want to buy – want to employ, pardon me.

Because, if we want to be honest, at the end of the day, we are no more in their eyes than property and animals.

**A/N: Thank you for the prompts, guys! :) this one, as well as the next about ten, is from SKDanielle16 :) Thank you! After her come the prompts from XxDeadlyBlackRosexX and Meet Your Makers Today.**


	105. 103 Spokane

103. Spokane

POV: Mason

Word count: 121

I can't believe my ears – the Strigoi are here. Well, in Spokane, but that's like within a stone's throw! (Okay, it's a few hours by coach from here, if I can sneak out, but that's not the point.)

The point is that finally, after almost eighteen years, a Strigoi or two is within my reach. I can't help it, I have to do something. I am itching to stake, itching to kill. I know I am ready, even if everybody else – even Rose – says otherwise.

It's been decided – I am going to Spokane. There will be some Strigoi blood running tonight (or whenever I get there) if it's up to me.

The only question is – how can I get to Spokane?

**A/N: A little bit of Mason – my second with him I think :) I might have made some mistakes here, 'cause I read Frostbite about a year ago for the last time, and I don't have my copy with me right now :S Sorry for it!**


	106. 104 Cabin

**104. Cabin**

POV: Third person

Word count: 291

Giles Miller considered himself a good man and a good Guardian, but he had his flaws. For example, he liked to drink – not that he was an alcoholic, but after tricky situations – just like a massive Strigoi attack on his workplace – he just simply had to have a drink.

Now, Guardians on the school grounds, especially while having their shift, was strictly forbidden to drink – but, learning from the students, he knew that it could be arranged – he just needed to find a place where no-one would looking for him.

Just like the old cabin in the woods.

Actually, he had hidden a bottle of vodka there weeks ago, and was sneaking off to visit it once in a while, just like today. The cabin was usually unchanging, since no-one visited it excluding him, but today, as he stepped over the threshold, he had a feeling that something was wrong – the condition the bed was in just strengthened his suspicions. But he didn't really care; the sheets were messy, yes, but it must had only been a kid or two sneaking in. he didn't want to care about it now.

He retrieved his bottle from its hiding place, sat down on the bed, and lifted the booze to his lips, his other hand behind his back, supporting him. He only realized after two gulps that the materiel under his hand was too soft to be part of the old blanket. He grabbed it, and brought it to eye-level.

His jaw dropped – it was a pair of panties. A rather nice pair of panties.

He jumped up from the bed, threw the article away, and bolted from the cabin, bottle in hand.

There was no-way he could drink peacefully in there anymore.

A/N: a little long today :) (twice as long as my usual drabbles are), but I hope you liked it :)


	107. 105 Donuts

**105. Donuts**

POV: Rose

Word count: 165

There's only one donut left in the whole cafeteria, which happens to be sitting in front of me on the table, and I want to it so badly. The only problem is that sitting opposite of me there is Christian, and he wants it – almost – as badly as I do.

For once in a lifetime, none of us has anything to say; we are just so engaged in our little staring contests. We won't turn our glares from the other, neither dare we move – I won't touch the donut in a fear that he'll burn me, he won't touch it in the fear that I'll snap at his fingers. It's a tough situation, but I am desperate enough to win.

Finally Lissa, sitting between us, sighs and mutters:

"Honestly, guys, sometimes you are worse than some kindergarteners." And with that she reaches out for the donut and breaks it into two equal halves, offering them to us.

After all, she has always been a peacemaker.


	108. 106 Lust spell

**106. Lust spell**

POV: third person

Word count: 174

Victor knew that he had to make sure that Rose – and possible Belikov, too - was out of commission for a time being so that he could get to Lissa. The only question was: how?

His first idea was to get Rose punished for something – but he quickly aborted this idea. She could still get into Lissa's head, and alarm whatever teacher was supervising her punishment. The same went for a possible field trip – there would always be somebody overseeing her, somebody who would jump in the moment Rose said that Lissa was in danger.

Maybe, with a charm, he could make her loose consciousness. No, that wouldn't work either – that would be way too suspicious.

Then he started to watch Rose with Belikov. How they moved next to each other, how they communicated, not just with words, but with body language mostly… a perfect plan started form in his head. Two birds with one stone.

Just a little lust charm, in the perfect moment, in the perfect place… and Lissa was already his.


	109. 107 Tasha

**107. Tasha**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 108

I know I should take her offer – after all, it's a once in a lifetime chance. It would be easy to go with her, to have a life with her, away with all the riff-raff of the Court, living by our own rules, laughing at the other royals. Yes, it would be easy.

We might have a family together. We might never care about politics and Strigoi again. It would be a peaceful, comfortable, easy life. A life far away from my problems. Life away from her.

Rose…

But I can't do it. I love Tasha. But I am not in love with her.

My heart lies elsewhere.


	110. 108 Cigarettes

**108. Cigarettes**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 133

I have a very high threshold when it comes to enduring things. I endure the spirit-induced craze, Rose's behavior, Christian's moodiness… everything.

Except one little thing: the cigarette smoke.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem in the school – officially nobody is allowed to smoke. Nobody, except Adrian, of course. And he lives with this privilege – wherever and whenever he wants.

It wouldn't bother me this much if he only smoked outside. But no – I shouldn't even dream about that. No – Adrian Ivashkov smokes as peacefully in the classroom while we are practicing as he was in a nightclub.

And it's getting on my nerves. I can't bear it anymore.

At least, that's what I am going to say if someone catches me throwing away the box of cigarettes I have stolen from Adrian.

**A/N: The reward fic Shinedine is finally dome! :) You can find it on my profile, under the title Once Upon a Book.**


	111. 109 Aura

**109. Aura**

POV: Adrian  
>Word count: 132<p>

She still thinks that I don't know; that I don't see.

She thinks she can lie to me and to herself, telling that she's over him, that she's ready to be with me, to really be with me… but then I look, and I see.

I take a look at her aura, and see as it darkens when she remembers that she lost him, and see as it brighten when she remembers something nice that happened to them. I see a whole rainbow of colors in her aura when they finally exchange a few words. I can pick longing, rage, love, sorrow… and every other emotion you can imagine from her colors – and from his.

Yet, she tries to lie. But I know something that she hasn't realized yet.

Auras never lie.


	112. 110 Ghosts

**110. Ghosts**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 135<p>

I have always believed in ghosts.

How could I not have, when I grew up with Yeva, whose every second sentence was about the spiritual world, karma – though it wasn't the world she used -, prophetical dreams, fate, and yeah, ghosts. I remember, when I was little there were many nights when I couldn't go to sleep because every shadow, every little breeze looked and felt like a ghost to me. A ghost, who had came to punish me for my bad behavior, as Yeva had implied.

Of course, I grew out of it, just as I grew out of my fear of dogs. I still believed in ghosts – well, not the poltergeist-type -, but I wasn't afraid of them.

Yet, I couldn't help but be surprised when Rose announced that she could see them.

**A/N: Anyone up for a little contest for another reward one-shot? (It's not a rhetorical question :) I'd really like to know if there is interest for it) Anyway, has anybody caught the reference to one of my other VA stories? :P**


	113. 111 Bond

**111. Bond**

POV: Rose

Word count: 174

"Don't tell me that you haven't seen any of the movies." I stated, surprised.

"Well, I haven't." Dimitri shrugged; obviously, it wasn't that big of an issue for him like it was for me.

"But it's like… it's classic! The oldest still running film series! And the guy is like a hero!"

"Who beds a different woman in every episode, doesn't he?"

"It's part of his charm."

"So you would like it if I went to bed with a different woman after every time we encounter a Strigoi?" He raised his eyebrow, teasing me. Okay, he had a point.

"Well, I could wear a wig every time, and we could pretend that I am somebody else…" I suggested and he laughed. "Anyway, he was married once – it isn't his fault that she was killed…" I reasoned. "But aside the romantic plotline – the action scenes are simply amazing."

"So are the ones in the western movies."

I frowned at him.

"Are you implying that you won't come with me to the new James Bond movie?"

**A/N: Not the kind of drabble you expected upon reading the title, isn't it? :P Also, I am leaving Dimitri'****s answer to you :) So, I mentioned a little contest yesterday – so far, only one person said that she would like it. What this contest would be about? Well, I thought that I'd ask you –since three people have already asked me if they could – to write a full one-shot (at least 1000 words), based upon one of these drabbles. Of course, the best would get a prize :) Details when I am sure that people would take part. There is a new poll on my profile about it – please, vote.**

** Also, something personal: I went to Wicked in London today. I was – and ****still am – completely amazed. Best musical I have ever seen (and I have seen a few). It's a dream came true for me – I have wanted to see it for almost five years :)**


	114. 112 Kiss

**112. Kiss**

POV: Abe

Word count: 122

She is like fire – beautiful and hypnotizing, but dangerous and powerful at the same time. Just the way I like it – it's like she was created just for me.

She moves around the room with feigned confidence – she wants to look dauntless and trustworthy to the royals, who came here like they would come to a horse sale, hoping that one of them will choose her, but I can see that she is uncomfortable, she wants to run, get out of here… the sooner, the better.

I need this woman.

I slowly make my way to her, but instead of starting a little chat, I pull her away from the crowd, into a little alcove, and steal a kiss.

She doesn't resist.

**A/N: One would think that it1s easy to write a drabble to a prompt like this – well, no, it isn't :D I had to think about it for a really, really long time. But I hope it was worth it :)**** It's an interesting topic, isn't it? How Rose's parents met? Anyway: does anybody know what kind of user Abe is?**


	115. 113 Touch

**113. Touch**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 128

As a Strigoi, everything is clearer, sharper – the sounds, the scents, the sights, the touches. Maybe, these are the only things I miss from those months.

Ever since I have been changed back, everything seems blurred, pressed down. The music not clear enough, the smells not sharp enough, the colors not bright enough, the touches… well, the touches are not satisfying enough. And no matter how hard I try, how much I wish these things back, it won't happen – and it's better this way.

But then Rose – casually – grabs my wrist, and it's like an electric current passing through me, a vibrant feeling, just from the slight touch of her fingertips… and suddenly, I realize that I have found a way to experience touch better than a Strigoi.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates in the last two days – I spent 27 hours on a coach, after all :) But now I am making it up with three drabbles in one day! :)**


	116. 114 Whisper

**114. Whisper**

POV: Rose

Word count: 117

It's just like a childish game here – people leaning to each other's ears, whispering secrets – my secrets -, gossiping, spreading rumors… and by the end of the day everybody seems to know the truth, even though their truth is the farthest possible from my – the real – truth.

Yes, I am the centre of the Court's rumor mill – the Queen's pet Guardian, who's living with another Guardian, who is, in their eyes, disgraced. I try not to listen, but it's hard.

There's only one thing that gets me trough the day: the promise that during the night Dimitri will hold me close to him, move with me in a wonderful rhythm, whilst whispering our truth into my ears…

**A/N: Smutty a little bit, isn't it? :P My question to you guys: do you like things like this? Things that get a little bit… heated? :P**


	117. 115 Perfect

**115. Perfect**

POV: Janine

Word count: 163

If it was a perfect world, I would be living with Abe and Rose, maybe in Turkey, maybe in the Court, maybe somewhere else. We would live in a small cottage alone, or in Abe's mansion, with several servants, it doesn't matter.

I might know how to cook – I might cook every day, or maybe just every Saturday, because it would still drive me crazy. I would bake, too, when Rose's friends are over, and I would eavesdrop from the neighbor room, just to know what they are chatting about. I might have another child.

Every day, when he gets home, Abe would kiss my temple, and we would go to bed together. There would be days when we would fight, I would throw things at him, but then he would bring me flowers, and we would make up.

But it's not a perfect world, and I have work, and I have duties and responsibilities, and I haven't seen my family in years.

**A/N: From here on in until further n****otice the drabbles are made by using XxDeadlyBlackRosexX's prompts :) if I am counting well, I have only 9 prompts left… Come on guys, if you want me to continue, send me more prompts! :)**


	118. 116 Clueless

**116. Clueless**

POV: Alberta

Word count: 131

Sometimes I wonder how the people around me can so blind. Or is it just me being overly perceptive?

I mean, I see it all – I have seen it from the very beginning. How they move around each other, how they always seem to know what the other is thinking, and that Belikov seems to be the only one who can keep Rose in line.

So, long story short, I approve them and hope that they will work out in the end. But at the same time, I am glad that they are not in the public yet – that would be nasty. But their secret is safe with me for now.

And even though the emotionally blind people around me are usually annoying, now I am glad for them being clueless.

**A/N: Huh… not my best, but I hope you'll like it :) Thank you for the 15 new prompts I got yesterday!**


	119. 117 Involuntarily

**117. Involuntarily**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 164

I have never wanted this – I have never wanted to be a queen.

Even two weeks ago, if somebody asked me how I see myself in five years I would have said that freshly graduated, maybe married, ready to start a family. Not the leader of my world – definitely not.

But then happened what happened, and suddenly I was in the middle of this whole ordeal, and despite my negative feeling from the early days, I realized – I wanted to be the queen. I wanted to help my people – Moroi and dhampire alike -, change their lives for the better. I also realized, that I was created for this task.

The only flaw in this is that I wasn't the first one to know this – Rose was. Actually, as it turned out, she gave me the first push into this direction. She, and my friends, who stood behind me all the time.

So, after all, me being the queen wasn't at all my choice.

**A/N: A tiny bit of trivia: Last Sacrifice comes out in two days in Hungarian :) By the way: I have just read Storm Born – and am I the only one who thinks that Dorian pretty much resembles Adrian? (Even the name!)**


	120. 118 Pie

118. Pie

POV: Rose

Word count: 168

"It's just simply silly."

That was Dimitri's only reaction after ten minutes into the film I had chosen for our 'movie night': American Pie 3: The Wedding. (After all, it was only fair – last time it was his choice, and we watched The Outlaw Josey Wales.)

"It is not!" I argued quietly. "Okay, it has virtually no morals, or even an overly constructive plot, but the actor's aren't half that bad, and it's really funny." Just then the dog appeared, and started licking Siffler's crotch. Dimitri looked at me, eyebrows raised. "Okay, it's a kind of silly."

But then the movie went on, and some scenes – for example the dance off or the disastrous end of the bachelor party – made him genuinely laugh. And at the end, as the credits were rolling, and I was about to turn off the DVD player, his arms encircled my waist, and, pulling me against his chest, he whispered into me ear:

"You know what? You were right. It was really funny."

**A/N: Based on Meet Your Makers' prompt. And, the movie-dork I am, I just had to go with an American Pie-themed drabble :P I hope you didn't mind :)**


	121. 119 Hair

**119. Hair**

POV: Sydney

Word count: 121

I have always hated them – I was raised to hate them. They were unnatural, a scar on God's flawless creation.

I tried to hate her too – she was just the same as the others. Yet, I found it hard. I mean, there was something in her that just simply called people in. A little nonchalance here, a witty remark there… and she has already made people like her.

But no, it doesn't annoy me. I can do that too – well, maybe. And it's not at all like I am jealous of her. Well, maybe I am, only for different reasons, I think as I comb through my unruly hair with my fingers.

Well, not everybody can have great hair, I guess.

**A/N: Just a little note for you guys: as you might already know, I have a Tumblr account – where, at the moment, I am doing a 30-day challenge. So, if you are interested in tiny things about me such as what are my pet peeves, or what places do I want to visit, or how does my desktop look like – well, then you should check it out :)**

**www . orlissa . tumblr . com**


	122. 120 Nails

**120. Nails**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 141

I have had several injuries in my life: cuts and bruises and broken bones. Precisely, I have broken my arm two times, my leg once, and had total of eight broken ribs. Tough, yes, but it's a part of every Guardian's life. We have to learn to live with it.

I have managed this – I managed to live with injuries. But at the same time, there are injuries that are simply annoying. They are there, they sting a little, not enough to really hurt, but still.

Just like the scratches on my back right now.

Thin, angry red lines, ten of them, placed almost completely the same distance away from each other. I slightly wince as I roll my shoulders.

"Rose," I call to her, and I see her turn into my direction. "I think it's time you cut your fingernails."

**A/N: Okay, it has come out a little bit naughty :P**


	123. 121 Soul Mates

**121. Soul mates**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 158

I am not at all happy, or even content, about them being together. But, after all, it's mostly selfishness from my part – I want her for myself. I still want her, even though it would be the best if I forgot her.

In the very first days after Lissa's coronation, I purely hated them. Both of them. I also thought I had every reason to do so. Then Sonya offered to teach me more about auras – I accepted, and we started working together. And I started to understand the auras better. The colors, the shades, the forms, the shadows…

And even though Sonya is saying that there are no such things as soul mates, as I look at Rose and Belikov, see and analyze their auras, and see the way they move around each other, how they act around each other – and wondering how could I had been so blind for months - I have to question her.

**A/N: Wow! :) Thank you guys for all the six reviews for the last chapter! :) That's the most I have ever had**** for one drabble – and there's only one more in this series which have this much!**


	124. 122 First Kiss

**122. First Kiss**

POV: Rose

Word count: 185

Lissa's first kiss was perfect, if I can say that. She had just turned thirteen, and it happened in her parent's holiday home, while they were having a banquet there. It was summer, it was by the lakeside, it was dawning, the rising sun's light bathed everything in a soft light, and the boy was so shy, and it was so nice and romantic… At least that's what Lissa told me dreamingly afterwards.

And what about my first kiss? Well, mine was less than perfect.

It happened two months after Lissa's. I found it kind of humiliating that she had her first kiss, and I hadn't. And then there was this boy – he was a freshman, two years older than me, pretty handsome, but much weaker than me. And I all but forced him to kiss me. It happened during a ten-minute break, hidden behind one of the administrative buildings, next to a trash bin. There was nothing nice or romantic about it, and we were most certainly not shy.

Lissa dated that boy for almost a year afterwards. I never spoke with him again.


	125. 123 Dreamstalker

**123. Dreamstalker**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 160

I started visiting people's dreams when I was fifteen. First, it was my mother whom I visited. Then the girls I liked. Then the girls I had one night stands with. Just for the fun of it.

Honestly, I had never really thought about what my antics would mean to the ones I visited. Okay, I hadn't even cared (since most of them never even found out that it was actually me in their dreams, and it wasn't just an ordinary dream, I though my visits didn't even count). That's it, until I started training Lissa.

Of course, I told her about my… adventures. Right, I bragged about them. I expected her to laugh, to look up on me. But, instead, she looked horrified.

"Adrian, it's not funny at all!" She exclaimed. "You are… you are… a complete dreamstalker!"

That day, I only looked at her puzzled, but looking at it today, I have to admit that she was right.

**A/N: Thank you, SKDanielle16, for your great, unusual, and terribly hard prompts! :D**


	126. 124 Little Dhampire

**124. Little Dhampire**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 133

Why did I come here? – I ponder as I lift the cigarette to my lips, standing on the porch, watching the snow covered mountains, but not seeing anything.

That's the question I have asked myself at least a hundred times in the last two days. It was supposed to be a great, week-long party, with most of the Court attending. But honestly, it's just a bunch of boring Royals – the very same ones I meet every day – and about… well, a lot of kids. Nothing interesting.

That's when the scent hits my nose – it's the first thing I notice. The view comes only after that – oh, and what a view. That's not something I see at the Court everyday.

I instantly put on my most charming smile. _Hello, little dhampire – here I come._


	127. 125 Risks

**125. Risks**

POV: Tasha

Word count: 144

I know that what I am going to do is dangerous to say at least. I could get caught. I could be arrested. Killed on spot, even. I might be too weak in the end to do it – but I doubt that.

I am determined to do this.

I have been planning this for weeks. I know what to do. Who to blame – how to stay out of the loop. My plan is flawless. The perfect crime.

A crime.

I can't believe this. I am becoming a criminal.

But it has to be done, there's no doubt about it. And I am able to carry out this deed – then why shouldn't I do this?

They might catch me afterwards, though. And then I will be executed. My family will hate me.

Yet, these are the risks I have to take.

The queen must die.

**A/N: There's something new – I don't think I have ever written Tasha before :) Anyway, this is based in Shinedine's prompt :) IMPORTANT! Please, anybody who has given me a prompt in review, send it to me in PM! I can't find them among the reviews! Thank you. **


	128. 126 Lissa

**126. Lissa**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 139

I am the last Dragmir – the last member a prominent, once powerful family. People pity me and whisper behind my back. Some want me to – pardon me – restart my line.

I was once Princess Vasilisa, one of the highest ranking Moroi. People wanted me to act like my title, or at least cause scandals, something to gossip about. Whatever I did, it was never good enough.

I am Queen Vasilisa. I am the leader of all Moroi and dhampir. I have responsibilities, everybody looks up on me. Many want me to see fall. They still talk behind my back – only, it's quieter and nastier.

I am Lissa. I am a young girl, a university student, with a boyfriend, friends, enemies. My life is simple and easy.

I am all of the above. But I only want to be Lissa.


	129. 127 Movies

**127. Movies**

POV: Rose

Word count: 191

"So let me get it straight – you want to change your shifts – and Belikov's, too – just to go to the movies?" Hans' eyebrows knotted together, foreshadowing his upcoming storm of rage. I just played cool, and put on a sweet smile.

"Exactly."

"Why then? I don't see your point."

"Midnight premiere. It was a hell to get tickets." Okay, slight exaggeration. Abe got the tickets, and I am sure that it took him about five minutes. The tougher thing was to convince Dimitri that he'd wanted to see this film.

I saw that Hans was still not convinced – time for Plan B.

"Please, could you do this for me? For my birthday?" Hans' expression slightly changed, got a little bit relaxed.

Jackpot.

"For your birthday?"

"Yeah, it's around the corner." Well, relatively. Hans thought about it for a moment of two, then said:

"All right, go, consider it done. Just for now." With a wave of his hand he dismissed me. I left, but I still could hear one of the Guardians in the room chuckle and spoke to Hans.

"You know that her birthday was over a month ago, right?"

**A/N: Sorry for disappearing on you – I was involved in a local contest-thingy, my best friend was staying at my place for two days – we had a hell of a time :) -, so I didn't get much chance to write for you guys. I hope you'll forgive me :) **


	130. 128 Vacation

**128. Vacation**

POV: Christian

Word count: 175

"You know, I think you have been working too much lately." I state as I watch Lissa reading over another report or something like that. Honestly, lately she only leaves her office to sleep and eat. Okay, and sometimes to meet me. Sometimes. Which is far from enough.

She looks up from her paper, and fixes her gaze on me. She sighs loudly.

"Christian, you know as well as me, that there's so much to be done, even if I could duplicate myself…" She keeps talking, but I tune her out – I've heard this speech a few times before. I push myself away from the doorframe I was leaning to, and walk up to her. Then, standing in front of her desk, I lean in and kiss her, stopping her rant.

"That's bullshit." I say when the kiss ends. "The Moroi can manage a few days without you – and will, because you are having a vacation. Starting now."

She only smiles as I pull her from her chair.

What a vacation is ahead of us.


	131. 129 Traffic

**129. Traffic**

POV: Rose

Word count: 175

"You are way too nervous and way too tense." I say as I steal a glimpse at him from the corner of my eye. He's sitting on my left, behind the steering wheel. And he is obviously annoyed – by the traffic. Somehow we ended up in the biggest traffic jam I have ever seen – and by somehow I mean that Dimitri said that he knew a shortcut. Well, even gods can be wrong sometimes.

"No, I am not." He says through clenched teeth, as his hand twitches nervously to the direction of the horn.

"Yes, you are. It's plain on your face." I knew I should be pissed off too, but his reactions are just simply too amusing.

"I am just afraid that we won't make it in time." The car in front of us moves a little. Dimitri releases the brake, and slides a few meters forwards – then stops again. His hand starts its journey to the horn one more time.

"Whatever you say, comrade." With that, I lean in and push the horn.

**A/N: I am moving back to my dorm tomorrow…**


	132. 130 Sweet

**130. Sweet**

POV: Rose

Word count: 169

Sometimes I want to be romantic. Sometimes I want to do something for Dimitri. Sometimes I feel brave enough to cook – but it doesn't change the fact that I can't.

Anyway, last night was one of those times – I decided to surprise him and cook some typical Russian food for him. The problem started where – okay, the problem actually starts where I can't cook – that the only Russian cookbook I found at home was in, well, Russian.

No problem, I am brave, I am clever, I am great – I'll cook after the picture, I told myself. It can't possibly go that wrong.

Yeah, right.

In the end, the stuff didn't turn out that bad – it actually looked kind of yummy. Dimitri was surprised and happy. At least until he took a bite.

"It's salty." He stated simply, trying no to make a face, after he'd swallowed.

"Is it really that bad?" I asked, my mood falling a little.

"No, it's not that bad… only, it's supposed to be sweet."

**A/N: This one is based on a true story :P a few years ago one of my pals went to Korea**** for a few weeks, because he was supposed to work for a Korean company in one of its Hungarian factories. The cooks in Korea wanted to make food which the Hungarian guys would like, but they only could get a Hungarian cookbook in Hungarian – and no-one spoke Hungarian XD In the end, they cooked based on the pictures. And so, the gulash soup, which is supposed to be salty-spicy with paprika, turned out to be sweet-sour :D**

** Anyway, school starts here, guys :( the actual classes start on Monday, but I am already back to my dorm. And tomorrow, I am heading to Wien :)**


	133. 131 Fire

**131. Fire**

POV: Christian

Word count: 166

"Now, you hold the flint like this…"

"Aunt Tasha…"

"Christian, pay attention, this is important."

"No, it's not. We are fire users, for damn's sake! I can do it like this!" I say, as I flicker my wrist to the direction of the base of our soon-to-be campfire. The crispy logs go up in flames instantly. I glance at Aunt Tasha, feeling a little bit smug, but my gaze only finds an angry gaze. The fire stops in a blink of an eye.

"Now, try with these." She hands me the flint and steel. "You can't always rely on your magic. You must learn to survive without it. Start with making fire."

I can hear from her voice that she is not kidding. I start to move the flint and the steel against each other begrudgingly.

After twenty minutes, we still have no fire, but Aunt Tasha is still determined. I just sigh – annoying and stubborn? Definitely yes.

But I wouldn't have her any other way.

**A/N: Kind of continuation of 086. Camping :) **


	134. 132 Stars

**132. Stars**

POV: Rose

Word count: 192

"Wow, what's that on you neck?" I reached up, trying to touch the tattoo on Marc's neck – he was my mother's colleague, another Guardian of Lord Szelky's, who was visiting the Academy to see his son's graduation. This happened when I was about six, and I remember being completely mesmerized by the pretty images on his and my mother's neck. I knew what the lightening bolts meant, but Marc had something my mother didn't – a little star. I wanted know what it exactly meant.

It was clear that my question bothered him, but, being that young, I couldn't see why.

After a few, painful, silent moments, he was just about to answer, opening his mouth, when my mother shooed me away, saying that I shouldn't bother him.

I went, but I promised myself that I would find out what the pretty star meant and how can I earn one.

After nearly twelve years, I learned what it meant, and even got one. But by then I understood Marc's discomfort about my question. I learned what you have to go through the bear one.

I didn't want to wear the pretty star anymore.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday! (I was too occupied with reading Burning Ice's Midsummer Madness :P) And anyway, I am kind of going through an artist block right now :s it's not pretty :S **


	135. 133 Hurricane

**133. Hurricane**

POV: Sydney

Word count: 117

It was love at first sight.

This car was exactly the kind which made me wonder how can be people on the face of Earth who don't love cars, who can be completely indifferent to them – this machine was perfect. Its red hood, the impressive tires with the silver hubcaps, the gleaming dashboard, the soft purring of the engine… yes, it was a little bit tattered up, and could have used a little loving and washing and polishing, but otherwise, it was amazing. Breathtaking.

Just the kind of car I have always wanted – the car I was about to get.

So, coming here to Russia had some pros after all – one of them being my Red Hurricane.


	136. 134 Mistake

**134. Mistake**

POV: Janine

Word count: 145

When I became pregnant with Rose, I thought I made a mistake. She wasn't planned and I was so young, so inexperienced, so devoted to my job – I even thought about having an abortion. In the end, it was Abe who convinced me to keep her.

I still thought that it was a mistake – but I still loved her. I gave birth to her, nursed her for a few weeks, then gave up on her, sending her to the Academy. It did break my heart, but I still felt like it was the right thing to do – after all, _they came first_. I was convinced I was doing the right thing.

It was years later, when Rose, my almost grown up daughter, sneered at me from her desk, asking those awful questions, trying to get me… Then I realized where I made my biggest mistake.


	137. 135 Tonight

**135. Tonight**

POV: Mia

Word count: 155

I can do this. I will do this.

Tonight, I will casually walk up to my father, and tell him that I don't want to be a PR manager anymore and that I am dropping out of school to join a group of brave Moroi who want to fight, learn how to fight, and join the ranks of the Guardians, to kill Strigoi.

To avenge my mother.

By the time evening rolls in, I am ready. I can do this. I will do this. I walk into the living room, where I know my father is, and I find him-

- passed out in his favorite recliner, a bottle of whisky in one hand, my mother's photo in the other.

I peel the bottle and the photo from his hands, cover him with a blanket and place a small kiss on his forehead. Just like I do everyday.

But tomorrow – tomorrow I will tell him.

**A/N: There are only 14 + 2 (somewhere among the reviews, I can't find them :S) + 1 (which is "Justin Bieber", which I just simply won't do XD sorry) prompts left :) **


	138. 136 Concert

**136. Concert**

POV: Christian

Word count: 184

"You can't do this to me" I said, while watching Lissa fiddle with my tie.

"Christian, it's not a big deal. Stop being so touchy about this." She chastised me, not even turning her gaze from the tie.

"It is a big deal for me!" I exclaimed, and ruffled the edges of my tux for demonstration.

It took me a few moments to realize that I shouldn't have done that.

Lissa took a step back, put her hands on her hips and looked up at me, putting on her best menacing look.

"Christian, these musicians came all the way from Russia just to show their respect by giving me and my future consort – don't give me that look, they called you that! – a concert. It would be extremely rude from you not to attend." It almost convinced me. Almost – but not quite. I was just about to tell her that I won't go, no matter what, but then she played her Joker.

"Anyway, either this, or the Taylor Swift concert – and whichever you choose, Rose will know about it."

Damn girl. She caught me.

**A/N: Don't get me wrong, Taylor Swift is one of my favorite performers ever – only, I think that Christian would find her music way to "girlish", and to attend one of her concerts… :D Well, it sure would be embarrassing for him :D And I am sure that Rose would love teasing him about it :P**


	139. 137 Painting

**137. Painting**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 162

I remember, when I was little, my family was still whole we were staying at my grandparents' old countryside mansion every summer and there was a beautiful painting hung right above the top of the staircase. It was of a beautiful, young woman. She sat on an ornate chair, she wore enormous skirts, a tight bodice and a funny ornament in her hair, her posture was regal and a mysterious smile played on her lips. I was really young, and all I knew about the painting was that it is very old and that the woman is beautiful. And I always wanted to know what she was smiling about.

Today, I know that the woman on the canvas was Queen Alexandra. I know that that ornate chair was her throne and that that funny ornament was her crown.

And, sitting on my throne, with my crown on my head, I finally know why she is smiling that funny, mysterious smile of hers.

**A/N: Either today or tomorrow we will reach 50000 hits for this story - thank you very much guys! :) To celebrate this event, I am proposing a little contest: for ten days, starting with tomorrow, I will post one question every day about the story. You will be able to find the answers in the drabbles, the A/Ns or on my profile. You will only have one day to answer every question, strictly in PM. When I upload the new drabble, you won't be able to answer last day's question anymore. The one who has the most right answers by the end of the contest, will get a one-shot written especially for him or her, based on his or her idea :) I hope you'll enjoy this little game :)**


	140. 138 Unexpected

**138. Unexpected**

POV: Janine

Word count: 128

He's dangerous – it's written all over him. Yet, he is so appealing; somehow he is drawing me to himself.

He moves around the room like he was part of the royalty, although I know he isn't. But I can tell from his gait and looks that he is powerful, charismatic and rich. So, he could as well be a royal.

Somehow I want to know him – don't ask me why.

Then I see him make his way to me. I'm not afraid, not even when, without saying a word, he grabs my elbow, and, pulling me away from the crowd, leads me into a little alcove, hidden from sight. There, he leans in and places his lips on mine.

His kiss is unexpected, but not at all unwelcomed.

**A/N: Counterpart of 112 Kiss.**

**Okay, so let's get down to business :P Let's see the first question for my little contest (for further information, see yesterday's A/N). But before we start, two important things: send the answers only in PM – if you write it down in a review, the others will see your answers! Secondly, remember, that you'll find the answers not only in the drabbles, but in the A/Ns and on my profile, too. Okay, so today's question :) For starter, let's see something from little bit on the easy side: in late July, I took part in an event hosted by another fandom. What was this event, which fandom was it hosted by, and how many stories did I upload for it?**


	141. 139 Surprise

**139. Surprise**

POV: Rose

Word count: 188

Okay, I admit, it was a little bit hazardous, but then when the Strigoi activity was so low like nowadays, my body just simply craved the adrenalin. And when there was some pleasure added to the adrenalin, it was just better. Way better.

Hence, somehow I ended up in one of the main Guardian building's rarely used utility closets with Dimitri. Soon to be shirtless Dimitri.

It was amazing how I could make him forget where we were and what we were doing (okay: every coherent thought evaporate from his mind) with some so simple touches – okay, the action-deprivation could have been a factor for him too.

Nonetheless, we were pressed close to each other, hands roaming freely, lips almost glued together. Things were really starting to get hot and heavy – let's just say I didn't protest when he got off my shirt. The small space of the closet was filled gasps and groans and moans and –

The click of the door.

I turned around, and found myself face to face with Hans.

"Hm… surprise?" I managed to utter out.

He was not amused, to say at least.

**A/N: Here, a little bit of naughtiness for you :P You seemed to like it last time. **

**Okay, about the contest, there's a little change in the rules: you can send in all the answers until the very end of the contest – so you'll be able the answer yesterday's question, let's say, on Wednesday. And now, let's see today's question :P Which was the longest drabble so far?**


	142. 140 Rabies

**140. Rabies**

POV: Rose

Word count: 167

I have to admit, it was a nice, beautifully delivered lecture. Even though we – Dimitri and I – were the subjects of it.

Hans were raging. He was going on and on about how we were no better than a pair of overly hormonal crazy teenagers (okay, this wasn't actually far from the truth), who were bringing shame on every Guardian with this kind of behavior…

I lost track of what he was saying after this – I was way too occupied with watching him. It is an understatement to say that he was angry. He was gesturing wildly with his hands, once almost hitting my nose, his voice was steadily rising, and, I swear, his mouth was actually _foaming._

"Hey," I said quietly, as I nudged Dimitri in the ribs with as little movement as I could manage. He leaned in a little, and I whispered to him: "I guess we should start worrying. I think he has rabies."

Then, despite the situation we were in, he chuckled.

**A/N: On popular demand, here's the continuation of yesterday's drabble :)**

**Now, let's see today's question: since I started writing this collection, I have been to some countries. Which were they? Also, for a plus point: where am I from? :P**


	143. 141 Parent

**141. Parent**

POV: Rose

Word count: 119

I couldn't place the cold indifference Dimitri treated Lord Tarus with. The careful distance the royal kept was even more of a mystery for me. One could almost see the negative vibes vibrate between them.

Then, after a meeting between them what almost turned disgusting, he confessed: Lord Tarus was his father. The one who liked to beat his mother up and whom he beat up once.

From that day, I started to see the royal through different eyes. Up until then, I only thought that he was arrogant, just like most of the royals – now I saw him as a monster.

After all, you can father as many children as you'd like – it won't make you a parent.

**A/N: It has always intrigued who was Dimitri's father – all we know is that he is a royal. I meant to ask his name from Richelle Mead during her live chat last month on Facebook, but she didn't get to my question… Also, I am pretty sure, that with all that ruckus about the coronation of the new monarch, every royal would have gone to Court, therefore it would be almost impossible for them not to meet at least once.**

**Okay, let's see today's question! :) What's the name of my friend who was in charge of the updates while I was wasn't working for me? **


	144. 142 Nuts

**142. Nuts**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 171

It has always intrigued me that why would a Moroi – born to be slim and slender – go on a diet. I have never considered it myself – I was happy with my looks as they were. My classmates – not so much.

I clearly remember all the diet fads they have tried over the years – no solid food for a week, eating only melons, different kinds of food for each day… They tried everything what promised to make them even thinner.

The methods listed above are crazy enough, but I have to tell you, they are not the wildest – this title, in my opinion, should be given to the 'nut-diet'.

It was in early tenth grade that one of classmates tried it out – it consisted of only eating different kind of nuts. She swore up and down that it worked – up until her first acnes started to appear. One week into her diet her face was all red.

That was the time when Rose and I started to call the diet-maniac simply nuts.

**A/N: Am I the only one who is almost disgusted by today's supermodels? They are all so thin and dull and pale and lifeless… (anyway, I am keeping my nice 35-27-35 measurements, thank you very much).**

**Let's see today's question: I work on the Hungarian edition of one of the better known YA novel series. Which is this series and what is my job? **


	145. 143 Puddle

**143. Puddle**

POV: Rose

Word count: 246

I broke my tailbone when I was thirteen – it wasn't actually a funny occurrence, yet it makes me smile today.

Spring was just starting, and we had a great storm the previous night. Mason and I were outside during one of the breaks, teasing each other, laughing, doing typical pre-teen stuff. That was when the elementary school kids came out, and started jumping around, stomping into the puddles scattered around the yard.

My thirteen-year-old self found them both extremely hilarious and embarrassing – I even voiced it to Mason.

"Oh, you're just jealous of them." He said. "I am pretty sure that you want to jump into that puddle just as much as they do, but you are just too much of a coward to do it." He pointed at a big puddle in front of us. Now, back in the day, calling me a coward was a good way to make me do anything. Mason knew it. I knew it. Yet, it worked every time. Just like then.

I took a step, jumped, and…

Yes, it rained the day before – but it still froze during the night. What I didn't see was that under the shallow water there was still a nice layer of ice.

My foot slipped from under me, and before I could have enough time to be scared, I was sitting on the wet, cold ground, with literal pain in my ass.

So, this is the story of how I broke my tailbone.

**A/N: Today's question: Which was the only prompt I got from you, but denied writing about? **


	146. 144 Radio

**144. Radio**

POV: Rose

Word count: 145

It was a slow day – a very slow one, and I was confined in one of the smaller offices in the main Guardian building with Eddie.

We had long ago finished our work, but were unable to leave until the end of our shift. It was totally like after class detention. There was a small radio perched on the top of a nearby shelf. I reached out, turned it on – thankfully, it was working -, and started absent-mindedly fiddling with the dials, constantly changing the channels. After about five minutes I got tired of it, and left the dials where they were.

Eddie snorted. I looked up at him questioningly.

"Belikov's really rubbing off on you." he said.

At first I didn't get it. Then I listened to the radio for a moment – I left it on an eighties' channel.

I laughed despite of myself.

**A/N: Today's question: Which musical did I see on West End? **


	147. 145 Lick

**145. Lick**

POV: Third person

Word count: 143

He watched the girl from the distance. She was so beautiful, so innocent, so… clueless.

A simple, young, appetizing human girl. Who had only minutes left from her life – of course, she didn't know it yet.

He paid special attention to the soft, alabaster skin of her neck – where he would soon sink his teeth into. It was nice, spotless, had a really attractive curve – in another life, he would have found it erotic. Even a year ago, when he would have thought about biting the girl, it would have happened while she was wriggling under him, he deep inside of her, she moaning in pleasure…

Oh, humans! What fantastic and lowly creatures! They have always intrigued him.

The girl finally said goodbye to her companions, and walked away from the crowd. His time has arrived.

He licked his lips. Dinner was ready.

**A/N: Just some thoughts of a nameless – former Moroi – Strigoi :) Today's question (only two more left!): ****Once I referenced one of my other VA fics in one of the drabbles. Which was the drabble and what was to reference to which fic?**


	148. 146 Spiral

**146. Spiral**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 171

I can hardly stay on feet. It's not that I am still weak or injured. I just… I can't even think about it.

The rain is falling steadily, but I feel none of it – uncle Victor is standing to my left, holding an umbrella over me. On my right, there is Rose, her hand still in cast, fading bruise still on her face. I can feel her hand on my elbow.

I can't even make out what the priest is saying.

It happened a week ago today.

A week ago, my family had an accident.

A week ago I lost my family.

Finally, the priest stops speaking, and the three coffins are lowered into the ground. I step forward – I can finally feel the raindrops on my cheeks, but they might as well be my tears. I hold my hand with a rose in it over the hole, and let go of the flower.

It spirals down, down and down, then reaches the bottom.

I wish I could go with it.

**A/N – Today's question: I made several birthday shot-outs since the beginning of the series. Whose birthdays were they?**


	149. 147 Ninja

**147. Ninja**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 182

I was sitting in the yard on the soft turf, reading a book, when I heard it. It was just a soft noise, coming from the bushes behind me.

Cracking of a twig. Rustling of the fallen leaves. Barely audible, but still there.

I started to get scared. I am paranoiac, I know, but for half of a heartbeat I was convinced that somebody was coming for me. Then I heard it: a hushed curse.

I almost laughed out loud – it was Christian who was trying to seek on me. But I stayed put, not letting him know that I know about him.

He was getting closer and closer, he was almost there, and then –

"Damn it Lissa, what was it for?" He said, sounding a tiny bit angry, holding his forehead. Okay, I might have hit him with my book. I felt only a little bit bad about it – after all, it was only a paperback.

"To teach you not to play ninja – you can't do it right." With that, I leaned in, and put a kiss on his throbbing forehead.

**A/N: Last question: Which drabble got the most reviews so far? You have two more days to answer the questions, BUT the most answers I got from one person so far is three. I know that I promised that I would write a one-shot for the one who had the most right answers, but it's not a game this way, guys… :( So, I either get at least five answers from at least person, or I won't write any reward one-shots to anyone. Were the questions too hard? You were enthusiastic in the beginning!**


	150. 148 Dragon

**148. Dragon**

POV: Third person

Word count: 135

The crowd was restless in the yard of the Royal Court. Thousands of people gathered there to witness the event of the decade – maybe even the century. An event what was merely a dream only a week ago.

Every eye was turned to the great screens, displaying the happenings taking place in the throne room. Some were already dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.

They saw a young girl whit blond hair and regal posture going down on her knees. They saw her saying those vows, the sacred vows of their kind. Some were sobbing.

Then the priest held up the crown and with great ceremoniousness, he placed it on the top of the young girl's head.

The crowd outside of the throne room erupted in mighty cheers.

They had their queen.

The Dragon had returned.

**A/N: Thank you for all the pms I got yesterday! :) Don't forget, you still have one day to send in your answers. I'll disclose all the right answers on Tuesday, and I'll also announce the winner then :)**


	151. 149 Steal

**149. Steal**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 190

The woman in my arms takes her last breath, then goes limp – she's finally dead. It was just about time.

She must have been from a wealthy family – or had a very rich boyfriend. Actually, it's no concern of mine – the main point is that she comes from money, and she wears this money, only in different forms.

Her dress is ruined beyond repair, so it's no use to me. It's soaked with blood and torn in several places – she put up quite a fight. I suspect her neck next – she is wearing a necklace, but it's a simple, cheap silver chain, with her name on it. I don't even bother with taking it. I sweep her hair away, so I can see her ears – that's it. Rubies in silver. Exquisite.

I am not being gentle – I simply rip the earrings from her ears. It doesn't matter to her anymore, anyway.

A tiny voice somewhere deep inside of me is whispering to me, telling me that's it's stealing, that it's wrong, but it's completely drowned by a much stronger voice telling me how beautiful they will look against Roza's skin…

**A/N: Ever wondered how Dimitri got all those jewelries for Rose? Technically, he admitted to her that he didn't get them legally…**


	152. 150 Wrong

**150. Wrong**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 122

'Don't do this, Adrian. You are only destroying yourself with this behavior. You really should stop this. You should concentrate on your studies. Adrian, do this. Adrian, do that. Adrian, go there.'

That's what I've been listening to ever since my powers really started to manifest. Ever since I started smoking and drinking, and started my way down the slope in general.

Like their advices could change a thing.

Everybody seems to think that I am polluting my system for only the fun of it. Like I have a choice. I bet anybody would go crazy after a day living my life without these poisons, these medicines.

They think I can change my way of living on will.

Well, they are wrong.

**A/N: Here come the answers :)**

**1, ****In late July, I took part in an event hosted by another fandom. What was this event, which fandom was it hosted by, and how many stories did I upload for it?**

_**It was Zutara Week 2011, hosted the fandom of Avatar: the Last Airbender, and I uploaded 6 stories for it (I couldn't get day five's entry done in time)**_

**2, ****Which was the longest drabble so far?**

_**104 Cabin, with 291 words.**___

**3, ****Since I started writing this collection, I have been to some countries. Which were they? Also, for a plus point: where am I from?  
><strong>_**During this time, I visited Italy (Venice – Florence – Rome, along with some smaller town, mid-July), England (London, early to mid-August), and Austria (Vienna, 1st September). Also, I am Hugarian.**_

**4, ****What's the name of my friend who was in charge of the updates while I was wasn't working for me? **

_**Judit **____** (also, I'd like to make it clear here, that this Judit isn't the same person as the Judit for whose birthday I made a shout-out. The former is my best friend, the latter is my roomie of five years **____** This Judit's birthday falls on the same day as the Weasley twins' **____**) **_

**5, I work on the Hungarian edition of one of the better known YA novel series. Which is this series and what is my job?**

_**I have been the editor of the hun edition of the House of Night ever since the fourth book.**_

**6, Which was the only prompt I got from you, but denied writing about? **

_**Justin Bieber :P**_

**7, ****Which musical did I see on West End?**

_**Wicked – it was a dream come true for me. I had wanted to see it for five years.**_

**8, ****Once I referenced one of my other VA fics in one of the drabbles. Which was the drabble and what was to reference to which fic?**

_**Now, I thought about An Exception Makes the Rule Stronger here – it was 110 Ghost, and the reference was Dimitri being afraid of dogs. But I also got Double-edged Sword as an answer here, and I accepted that too, since I did write about writing that story in one of the A/Ns **___

**9, ****I made several birthday shot-outs since the beginning of the series. Whose birthdays were they?**

_**It was also funny **____** I made three shot-outs: Doozey's, Judit's and my own **____** One person answereing this question wrote Doozey's and Judit's, while another wrote only mine **___

**10, ****Which drabble got the most reviews so far?**

_**It was 120 Nails with 7 reviews – I think somebody likes when things get a little bit naughty :P**_

**And the winner – the only one, who answered all the questions – is – drum rolls, please – kittenxxkisses! :) Congrats, girl! :) I'll contact you shortly to discuss your prize :)**

**I'd like thank everybody who took part in this little contest for their efforts to make this little game fun :) You rock, guys! :)**


	153. 151 Side

**151. Side**

POV: Victor

Word count: 115

Most people see everything in black and white: there are good things and bad things. Good people, ones to confide in and look up to, and bad people, ones to fear and avoid. They are taking sides.

I find it hilarious.

There is no black or white – only gray. True, some may lean towards this or that more, but this doesn't change a thing. Still, every person is considering only one point of view: their own.

So, they may send me prison for a life, saying that I am the 'bad guy', who only did bad things… But please, think with my head for a moment. And then, only then say that I wasn't right.


	154. 152 Time

**152. Time**

POV: Third person

Word count: 102

Yeva watched the young girl walk away from her, her steps determined, her bag pulling down her shoulders.

Yeva smiled to herself. Everything was going to be alright now, she knew. Rose was following her real path now. She was going to find Dimitri and save him, Yeva was sure. She didn't know how – she just knew that it was going to happen. Her dreams had never lied to her before.

She turned around and started walking back to the house with a self satisfied smile on her face.

Everything was going to be alright. It was only matter of time now.


	155. 153 Dark

**153. Dark**

POV: Third person

Word count: 117

She used to hate darkness before. It was scary, and intimidating, and so much more powerful than she was. Then she met him: tall, dark, handsome. His eyes were red, but somehow she was not afraid of him.

Their romance was short lived, but extraordinary. He called and she came. He kissed and she sighed. He bit and she moaned. He drank and she died.

Then she was awakened.

From that day, she was the creature of the night. She strolled the streets under the moon and called and kissed and bit and drank and killed. And her life was perfect.

The thing she was most afraid of in her previous life had become her greatest ally.

**A/N: After our Moroi-turned-Strigoi, there's a human-turned-Strigoi for you :)**


	156. 154 Shot

**154. Shot**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 106

I don't consider myself a perfect person – not even a good person on most days. But when I promise something, I tend to try to keep it. Just like when I promised Rose that I would stop smoking and drink less.

Then she got framed for a murder, escaped from prison, travelled half the country, found Lissa's sister, came back, got shot… and left me for a man she claimed she was over.

There is so much I can bear.

"One shot of whiskey for me, beautiful" I flash my most charming smile at the human barmaid as I lit my cigarette.

Promises to be damned.

**A/N: I went to the zoo today – saw pretty cats ****and a seal-show :)**


	157. 155 Baby

**155. Baby**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 121

My first baby was born during spring. I was completely, utterly, otherworldly happy – up until Rose first visited me.

She kept on smiling, cracked bad jokes, held my baby, cooed to him. But I knew she wasn't completely honest. How could I not?

I had never seen her as a motherly person – yet, I had never seen her falling in love with her mentor, either. But it turned out she was – at least she could be. And she knew it too at exactly the same moment she laid her eyes on my son for the first time.

Deep down she wanted a child to call her own. There was only one difference between her and me – she could not have one.

**A/N: Am I loosing my edge? :S**


	158. 156 Stay

**156. Stay**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 143

I just simply watched her walk away that day, her head hung, yet her steps so determined. She left to end her beloved's life.

And I just stood there, my chest throbbing with anger and sadness and pain and panic, and thousand other emotions. And I didn't do anything.

I regret it today. I wanted her to stay with me, like she always did, to soothe my soul and smile away my pain. I was so concerned with myself I didn't realize her pain.

That day, I stayed where I was, behind the protective walls. This is the biggest mistake of my life.

Because that day, I should have taken off with her instead of staying.

It should have been me soothing her soul for once, not stirring her rambling soul even more. But it's easy to be wise about the past now.

**A/N: Actually, I am pretty pleased with this one :)**


	159. 157 You

**157. You**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 117

What are you?

You don't know, but I often ask myself that, yet, I am unable to find the answer.

Are you an angel, sent to me to redeem me?

Or are you a devil, came to help me fall?

I don't know which one I am closer to, redemption or failure, heaven or hell? You tempt me day and night, and when you are not close, it is hell – your absence pains me. But when you are standing by me, it is Tartalus too, because even so close, you are out of my reach.

Then why am I desire you so much?

So, what are you, my dear Rose, my Roza? An angel or a devil?

**A/N: First one in a three drabble arc – all in DPOV. A little bit more poetic approach of Dimitri's feelings for Rose. **


	160. 158 Me

**158. Me**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 117

Once, I accused you being a devil – my devil. But I was wrong, so wrong – the devil all along: it was me.

Not the sweet, forbidden temptation you were to me. No, I was the real evil, the killer, the monster, the nightmare.

It is over now – you say, but you are wrong. He is still inside of me, still haunting me. He will never leave me.

I will be the devil himself forever, and I would only bring you misery. I don't want to hurt you, so I push you away – you pull me closer. I send you away – you sit next to me.

How can it be, Rose, my Roza, that you still love me?


	161. 159 You & Me

**159. You & Me**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 119

Can you believe it, Roza? I still can't.

After all we have been through, all the hardships, all the deaths, we are finally together. There is no more pretending, no more hiding, no more guilt. Just you and me.

It is exquisite – you, lying next to me, sleeping soundly, peacefully. Your face is relaxed, smooth, there's a ghost of a smile on your lips. I can't help myself – I caress your cheek. You stir. Don't you wake, love, not yet. I want to admire you a little bit longer. We have time to talk – all the time in the world. For now, I only want to worship you. Relish in your presence.

Rose, my Roza, thank you for existing.

**A/N: Last part in this little arc. Did you like this mood? **


	162. 160 Cloud

**160.**** Cloud**

POV: Nameless Strigoi

Word count: 127

I distantly remember that I used to hate clouds. It's a very faint memory, tainted by aggression and bloodlust most of the times.

It comes mostly when I am alone in the dark, during the day, too full of blood, but the thrive of the kill already fading. It is the time when I am the closest to my former shelf.

So I hated the clouds – and I used to love the sunshine. I think it is the very reason why hated the clouds – the obscured the blue sky from me.

But sometimes, when my old memories are strong like that, I swear, I would give anything to see the cloudy sky again – just let it be light powder-blue in color behind the clouds, instead of indigo.

**A/N: My nameless, former-human Strigoi makes her second appearance :) Maybe I should give her a name…**** Also: I am slowly running out of prompts**


	163. 161 Family

**161. Family**

POV: Eddie

Word count: 129

I remember, when we were younger, Rose would often whine – you didn't hear me say that – so, she would often complain about that she had no family. She didn't know her father – she didn't even know who he was. Her mother wouldn't give a damn about her (well, Guardian Hathaway sure cared more about her daughter than my mother cared about me).

But in reality, she did have a family all along: the Dragomirs. They had really taken in her like she was a daughter to them, taking her away from school for the holidays, never forgetting her birthday…

Yes, it was a little bit of unjust of her, but we loved her nonetheless.

And, if I want to be honest with myself, I was so damn jealous of her.

**A/N: My very first EPOV :P A few very important things: Thank you for all those hits in last month! In September, I got more than 22K hits from you guys! :) Thank you very much! Secondly: If you send me a PROPMT, send it in PM. If you send it to me in a REVIEW, I'll forget about it, and won't be able to find it later. Thank you!**


	164. 162 Muse

**162. Muse**

POV: Rose

Word count: 177

"Rose, stop fidgeting."

"I am not fidgeting!" I glared at Adrian, then I scratched my itching arm.

"Here we go!" He threw up his hands in frustration. "You just can't keep still for a few minutes!

"Few minutes? I have been sitting here like a statue for nearly two hours!" Man, he could get on my nerves sometimes.

"If you had stayed still, I would have finished it in a few minutes, but you didn't, so…" Now, here's that annoying half-smile at the corner of his mouth. Maddening. "Anyway, you have no right to complain. You were the one who insisted that I do something in my life. Now, here I am – drawing again." He held up the half-done drawing of me, and I have to admit, it was pretty good. "You make a lovely model, you know that, right? You give me so much inspiration" His voice was full admiration.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." I said, trying to shrug his earlier sentence off. "Yet, I'd appreciate it if you found a new muse next time."

**A/N: My first ever drabble featuring Rose and Adrian in a romantic setting :) Anyway, this is for LissasGuardian756, who, for some reasons, can't send me a PM, but was asking for this prompt for ages :) Here you go, girl! :) Anyway, you might wonder why haven't I uploaded anything bigger than my drabbles in more than a month. Well, at the moment, I am working on (in Hungarian) an Azula-centric (seasoned with a little bit of Zutara, like always) dramatic one-shot. I've been working on it for three weeks and I am finally nearing the end. It's pretty long – when I am done with the English translation (expect it in about two weeks – I maybe, maybe can finish it tomorrow, then my next bigger project is the translation), it will be over 10 thousand words. And after that's done? Well, I don't know :) we'll see. **


	165. 163 Dream Catcher

**163. Dream catcher**

POV: Adrian

Word count: 193

Funny thing is that what comes so hard to Lissa – visit other people's dreams – came way too easy for me. Actually, I did it accidentally a lot when I was a kid.

Back then no-one had heard of the spirit. Even my parents thought that I was having simple nightmares – because, right, the dreams I conjured unintentionally back then were pretty horrifying. I feel for the poor souls whose dreams I visited.

So they banned me from watching TV without supervision. I wasn't allowed to play violent games. I got a nightlight. Then, in their final desperation, when the nightmares still continued, my parents took me to a shrink.

It didn't work, of course.

That was when they got me a traditional dream catcher. It was a nice thing, with beads and feathers and everything.

The "nightmares" stopped right after they installed it above my bed. It wasn't because of the dream catcher, of course. I simply learned how to control my powers. But my parents don't have to know that.

Anyway, I still have that dream catcher, if you ever wanted to see it. After all, it's really nice to look at.

**A/N: So… after I couldn't find the next prompt, I read over all my messages and put them into order. Right now all of them are in my little hardcover notebook, written in pretty, neon pink :P No way I'll miss or loose them anymore :P Anyway, right now, I have 23 more :)**


	166. 164 Choice

**164. Choice**

POV: Mia

Word count: 136

I know that it's not a noble – or not even a nice – thing, but when we were in Spokane, and that What-Was-His-Name Strigoi said that one of us could survive, even as a Strigoi, I actually considered it. Not during the very first hours, of course – I was all tough and cool then. Or, at least, I tried to be. And failed. Doesn't matter.

But by the second day! I was so, so thirsty, and the others were so, so appetizing… But I kept holding on. Only for a little bit longer, I used to myself that.

But then I broke. I was about to volunteer, volunteer to kill, to become a monster… Then Christian spoke up, saving me.

So, after all, it wasn't actually my choice that I didn't become a Strigoi. It was Christian's.

**A/N: So, I said yesterday that I have 23 more prompts… I re-counted them, found some more, got ****some more… and in the end, it turned out, that I have 64 more prompts XD That's more than two more months, guys XD Uh, aren't you giving me work :P I think you want this story going on and on :) Thank you!**


	167. 165 Perfume

**165. Perfume**

POV: Dimitri

Word count: 123

He bought her perfume. Fucking Ivashkov bought Rose a box full of perfumes. Just like that. Because he just felt like that.

It's not that I am jealous. I have no reason to be. Rose is not somebody to be deceived by material things. And, anyway, there's nothing between us – this should be stated.

So, it's really not my business if they actually end up together. Rose is a grown up woman, who can completely handle a lowlife royal like Ivashkov. Of course, it doesn't mean that I would be glad if they got together.

Not that I see any chance for that happening.

Maybe I should have bought her a bottle of perfume for Christmas.

(Not that it would have meant anything.)

**A/N: I'm not exactly sure that I am happy with Dimitri swearing. I don't like using swearwords – neither in written or spoken form. But Dimitri do swear, we know that – only he does it in Russian :P**


	168. 166 Playground

**166. Playground**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 238

The St. Vladimir's has an old, rarely used playground. It's a mess – nearly everything is unusable – and it has been for decades. It's also almost out of school grounds, so nobody really cares about taking the toys down.

When we were kids, we loved to go there with Rose. It was our secret place. So much had happened there…

In third grade, I went there crying after some kid, whose name I forgot, pulled my ponytail. Rose came after me, and vowed that she'll beat him up. And she did.

In fifth grade, we talked about boys like something to like for the first time there.

In seventh grade, that was the place where Rose told me about her first kiss – in detail. I was so, so, jealous.

In eight grade, it was the place where I first got tipsy. It was Rose's birthday, and somehow we got hold of a bottle of wine. We could only drink the half of it.

In ninth grade, I told Rose about my first time with Aaron there, sitting on the battered swing.

In twelfth grade, right after graduation, we talked about how we would like our lives to turn out, sitting on the same spot.

And now, after more than twenty years, we are here again. Only, now we are talking about what the future of our kids will be like now, that they are about to leave the Academy…

**A/N: Okay, don't get me started on this. For 165 drabbles, I successfully avoided the topic of Rose actually having kids – we came dangerously close a few times, though, and now, you have it: a pretty clear hint that she does have kids in the future. To be honest, I am hopeless about this topic. Being the romantic and idealistic I am, I like to think that there is actually a way of Rose and Dimitri having kids. We just have to find it. Anyway – and now I am giving myself away – my long ago promised story, Double-edged Sword partially deals with this problem – what would it mean to Rose and Dimitri personally, and what would it mean to the Moroi-dhampire community. Hm… It's a pretty good story in my mind, I should just write it down…**


	169. 167 Black Balloon

**167. Black Balloon**

POV: Rose

Word count: 164

After Lissa's hold on the throne became strong enough, she set out on her biggest mission so far, with me in tow: finding more spirit users.

I won't lie, it wasn't easy. There weren't many spirit users to begin with, and most of them still saw themselves as freaks, so they weren't really keen on giving themselves away. But there were cases, when it wasn't even the spirit users who answered Lissa's call, but the people around them. In Jackie's case, it was her parents.

I was there when they first met. Jackie was a frail girl, barely thirteen, with gray eyes which always seemed to be off-focus. She didn't talk. She didn't react when she was talked to.

The doctors said she was autistic, her parents told us. I believed them. They suspected that, if only partially, it was spirit, too, which caused her to be like this. I doubted this.

But then I looked into her eyes, and see the spark there…

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday – there was a tiny, but rather expensive problem with my laptop, which I, fortunately, was able to get fixed in short notice, so here I am again :) About this drabble: I am not entirely sure about this… when I saw the prompt, I thought it might have another meaning I don't know of, so I googled it, and found a movie: The Black Balloon. It's an English film about a teenager, his life, growing up, falling in love, while taking care of his autistic older brother. I haven't seen this movie, but I am ****considering watching it :)**


	170. 168 Blink

**168. Blink**

POV: Rose

Word count: 179

Okay, I most certainly didn't plan it this way.

A little recap of what happened: it was our anniversary, and I wanted to give Dimitri a little bit of pleasant surprise. Which involved very little clothing and a lot of black lace. Then I waited for him to come home.

There was only one little fault in my plan – I left the door unlocked, thinking that the only person coming in without knocking would be Dimitri. I was mistaken.

When I heard the door open, I lay down on the bed, looking as hot and sexy as I could manage, waiting for my man, when…

My mother stepped into the room. (Of course, I forgot her tendency to barge in without knocking)

But, to be fair, she handled the situation well. She blinked at me a few times, then – before I had a chance to cover myself up – she turned on her heels and left the room.

I am sure she'll want to talk with me about it later. Let's just say I am not looking forward to it.


	171. 169 Fitness

**169. Fitness**

POV: Lissa

Word count: 173

"Rose, you'll be the death of me." I said, looking up at her, while trying to catch my breath. She just smiled smugly.

"Oh, come on, your highness! Don't be so prissy." She held out her arm for me to take. I grabbed it, and she pulled me from the ground.

"I'm not being prissy!" I protested. "It's only that the tempo you're dictating is too fast for me." I said, my chin high, but she was already a few steps ahead of me. I gathered all my remaining strength, and followed her.

"Oh, believe me this tempo is far from fast." She said, actually laughing, when I caught up with her. "Anyway, you wanted this, so pull yourself together, princess, because you still have a mile for today." And with that she increased her tempo again. I stopped where I was, shrugging hopelessly.

Yeah, me and my great ideas. Why did I have to insist that I need to be fit? And now, I am stuck with this early-morning jogging.

Just great.


	172. 170 Cinema

**170. Cinema**

POV: Rose

Word count: 243

Movie night in the nearby town's little, oldschool cinema – it sounded like a real fun night. And a pleasant date.

The problem started where, since it was such a retro theatre, it only had one room, and only one film running. Which happened to be the most boring one in the history of films.

But, as I was just about to doze off, Dimitri seemed to have found a way to keep me – and himself as well - entertained. His hand, which was resting on mine before, slowly ventured to my knee, then further up to my thigh, and further, further… And I had no objections about it.

Then he started to gently caress my center – my breath hitched here a little – and when he thought that was enough, his hand went a little bit further again, just to undo my jeans. He fiddled about the button – but he couldn't pop it open.

I tried to suppress my laugh. I managed, but hardly.

He tried again – nothing. But he didn't give up – his manly ego wouldn't let him. I didn't say anything – after all, it was quite amusing to watch.

He kept up trying all the way during the remaining part of the movie. It was only when the credits started to roll when I decided to help him out a little. I leaned in, and whispered directly into his ear, my voice a little bit raspy on purpose.

"Dimitri… it's a press-stud."

**A/N: Okay, I admit it, it was a tiny bit risky :) I think I might change the rating to M :P Anyway, do you know what's really funny? It's a true story :P I heard it three years ago during my summer job at the local confectionery's from one of my co-workers. It happened to one of her friend :P**


	173. 171 Card

**171. Card**

POV: Rose

Word count: 142

I flipped over the little plastic card in my hand with delight.

My very first official Guardian Identification Card. Actually, it was quite boring – it bore my name, basic infos about me, along with some infos about my charge, printed on a simple grey rectangle -, but it was mine.

And I was damn proud of it.

I flipped it over again, just for the feel of it. This little sweet thing opened new doors in front of me, doors that had been locked before. Now I was a real, official, full-time Guardian.

I flipped it again. I thought about showing it off to Dimitri. It would be fun.

I held it in front of my eyes, just to inspect it a little bit further. Then I saw my picture on the front. I frowned upon it.

Well, everything can't be perfect.

**A/N: There's a new poll on my profile – please, check it out :) Also, lately I've been thinking about opening a facebook account for my readers. I would post some infos, sneak peeks, progress of my works there along with ****some personal tid-bits. Would you be interested? Should I do this? **


	174. 172 Sedentary

**172. Sedentary**

POV: Abe

Word count: 151

I am always in motion – I have no still moments in my life. I have houses in Istanbul, in Moscow, in New York, at the Royal Court, and at several other places. One night I am here, the next on the other side of the world. I am always doing something – finalize a contract here, threaten somebody there, make some investments and stuff like this.

My life is full of excitement. I have many friends – contacts. Sometimes they need my help. Sometimes I need theirs. It's how my life is.

I have no right to complain. I have money. I have power. I have my wit and intelligence to handle them. Yet, I have no sure point in my life, no real friends, no family, nothing to work for – and so I feel like I am always making the same circles, always at the same place…

I miss them so much.

**A/N: I know that angsty drabbles aren't your favorites – based on my little poll -, but I just had to write it. For the first time ever we see Abe not the powerful mob boss he appears to be, but a vulnerable man who can't find his place in the world. Who misses his family. ****Did I make him justice?**


	175. 173 Chocolate

**173. Chocolate**

POV: Rose

Word count: 168

Managing a household turned out to be a lot harder than I imagined, but we did our best. We managed the finances carefully, split the housework, took turns in doing groceries and such.

It was Dimitri's turn to do the shopping, and when he'd arrived back from the supermarket, I volunteered to pack away all the stuff he'd bought. I took out item after unsuspicious item from the paper bag – milk, bread, toothpaste… - when I came across three bars of chocolate.

I eyed them, a little bit surprised. None of us was that into chocolate or sweets in general. Sure, I ate some from time to time, but not three bars… It made no sense in my book, so I asked Dimitri about it.

"Well… I didn't buy it thinking about eating it. I was more like among the lines of licking it." Was all his answer (and I swear, he blushed a little).

I had no more questions, just pulled out two pans from the cupboard.

**A/N: My little poll tells me you like the naughty ones the most :P So here it is :P Also, I've started translating my Azula-centered AtLA fanfic, and I wanted to ask if anyone would be interested in test reading it before publication? (The more I work on something, the more unsure I get about it)**


	176. 174 Pickles

**174. Pickles**

POV: Christian

Word count: 130

"Liss… are you sure you want to eat that?" I eyed that… stuff on her plate warily. That thing looked vile.

"Sure. It's great." She answered with an easy smile on her face.

"It doesn't look like so." I tried not to cringe away.

"Wanna try some?" She held out her fork with some of it on it towards me. I shook my head, my lips pressed together stubbornly (it was pure precaution). She just shrugged. "Well, your loss." And with that, she took another healthy bite, moaning in pleasure as it reached her tongue. I tried not to gag.

Had I known that pregnancy would make her unreasonably carve for pickles _and_ whipped cream, I would have never agreed on having a kid.

Never.

(Six more months to go…)

**A/N: I don't really like pregnancy/labor clichés (crazy cravings, hormone-induced insanity, threatening the father's life while in labor…), but then again, the last time I spent some quality time with a pregnant woman was when my cousin was expecting seven years ago (uh, that makes me sound so old…), so I am not an expert on their behavior. Oh, and I forgot to ask yesterday: did you suit up? :P**


	177. 175 Restrictions

**175. Restrictions**

POV: None

Word count: 126

To whom it may concern (that means you, Hathaway and Belikov)

After several uncomfortable incidents happening in the Headquarters, which I don't want to elaborate on – and I am completely sure everybody knows what I am referring to, too - new rules are being issued in the Guardian Headquarters:

1, Only one person is allowed to be in the storage rooms at one time

2, Guardians must keep a 3-foot-distance all the time

3, No personal matters should be discussed during working hours

4, Especially if these matters involve things happening behind closed doors.

5, Hooting and catcalls are also banned (and this point concerns everyone in the offices)

The rules above are valid starting with today. Their validation results in written reprehension.

Guardian Hans Croft

**A/N: And do you remember what Hans is referring to? :P**


	178. 176 Curfew

**176. Curfew**

POV: Jill  
>Word count: 200<p>

"Until two p.m.?" I did my best puppy-dog look. Apparently, it wasn't working.

"No way. Eleven, tops." She shook her head, but I was adamant.

"One p.m.? And I'll do that hospital round next week." I hoped that my little offering would work. It seemed so, judging by her face – she really considered it. My chances were growing.

"Noon, and that's it. And you're coming with me next week to the hospital, and Eddie is going with you." I sighed, exasperated.

"But the party is here at Court! Why would I need a Guardian there? Can't Adrian come with me instead?" Pouting, again. It didn't work, again.

"I'm trying to keep you out of trouble, not throwing you into it. Noon and with Eddie – take it or leave it." I heard the absolute final note in her voice. The battle was over.

I threw my arms to the air, and exclaimed:

"What's the whole point of being the Queen's sister, if I can't even stay out late?"

Lissa only smiled at this.

"The point is being the Queen's sister. You'd better get used to it."

And then, I swear, she ruffled my hair.

Sometimes I so hate being the youngest.

**A/N: Thank you guys! :) Yesterday's drabble broke record: it got 10 reviews in 24 hours! Wow, I'm impressed :) And sorry for the shabby quality of this one. It's nearly 1 am here, and I am writing a History test tomorrow – er, today. (Meaning: I studied 45 pages worth notes today).**

**EDIT: I realized Jill should be home by noon, not midnight - since all of their upside-down schedule :) I fixed the problem. **


	179. 177 Flying Pigs

**177. Flying Pigs**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 188<p>

There was only one time when Adrian had something stronger than clove cigarettes – but I still have no idea what it exactly was.

He got completely trashed at a bar at Court, and the owner of the bar, who wanted to avoid a scandal and knew me, as well as my history with Adrian, called me to collect him. And I, being the nice one, did it.

It was entertaining, to say at least.

He was completely out of it, laughing his ass off, being nice to everybody – even to the trees in the yard. Somehow I managed to get him to his apartment. There, he threw himself on the bed – jeans and shoes and all – and pointed at the ceiling, giggling:

"Look Rose! Flying pigs!" And then he laughed himself to sleep.

So, as I said, I still have no idea what he had smoked. And to be honest, it was funny one time, but I really don't want him to do that again.

And he won't: I have the footage of the "flying pigs", which goes straight to YouTube if he ever considers smoking pot again.

**A/N: We are fast approaching the 200****th**** drabble… will the story have 100K hits by then? :P**


	180. 178 Lullaby

**178. Lullaby**

POV: Janine  
>Word count: 186<p>

"What are you humming?" I asked, trying to turn to him. It was rather hard, considering that he held me secured in his arms.

"Just an old lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me." He moved his hand so it was resting on my belly. He gently caressed it – I felt the baby respond to him. "I'd like you to sing it her. So she'll… I mean, it's just sentimentality." I smiled at his words.

"Why are you so adamant about this little one inside me being a girl?"

"I just know. Don't ask me how." He leaned in, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "So, will you sing it to her? For me?"

I snuggled closer to him.

"Okay, but then you have to teach me. And I warn you, my singing is awful."

I felt his chest vibrate against my back as he laughed.

In the end it turned out that he was right – I really was carrying a girl. Rose. I even sang Abe's lullaby to her, but only once. The day when I left her in the Academy.

**A/N: Somehow I find Janine and Abe's relationship so interesting to write :) There's so much drama about them lurking in the shadows :)**


	181. 179 Chasing Cars

**179. Chasing Cars**

POV: Unnamed Guardian

Word count: 213

We – my partner and I – were away from Court when the distress call came in: Hathaway had escaped in the company of Belikov. They must be caught, dead or alive.

I admit, I didn't really care about it.

But so we started our way back to Court, to join the forces looking for them and get more information. That's how we are supposed to act in a situation like this. But on our way, we had a small break near to a fast food restaurant. We are humans – more or less – after all. That was when we saw them.

I saw them getting out of their – stolen – car, have a brief conversation with a blond girl, then get into her car. There was something in their posture telling me that they were not just escaping.

Just before they could have sped away, my partner reached for his gun, intending to shot their tires – if not them -, but I caught his arm.

"Wait. Let them go. I have always thought that there is some big problem with their story – something is not right. Let's wait it out."

My partner, though reluctantly, let them go.

A few weeks later, when Queen Vasilisa was crowned, I was really glad for letting them go that night.


	182. 180 Twins

**180. Twins**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 191<p>

I listened to Rose going on and on, looking at her wide eyed.

"…Then I thought about gathering all the pocket-sized dogs at Court, and let them into Hans' office. It's risky, but it so would worth it. And I have already had some guys from the garages changed the tires of Mikhail's car – to ones take from a monster jeep, just to keep things interesting…"

I nodded from time to time, not even daring to interrupt her rant.

"I haven't thought anything about Dimitri yet, but as for Christian, would you be really against it if I told him – of course totally by accident – that you were pregnant?" There was a moment of silence as she waited for my answer.

"It sounds a little bit… nasty." She just shrugged, with an unashamed grin on her face.

"It's Fool's Day. It's supposed to be nasty." I swear she looked just like a she-devil right then. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you secretly have an evil twin sister, and you two sometimes switch places – just like now."

To this, just to prove my point, she let out a devilish crackle.

**A/N: Fun fact: my best friend was born on April 1st :P Oh, do you know where I was today? :P At the very film studio where Hellboy II and The Borgias were shot :P I even took a walk on the very same street in "New York" where one of the big fight scenes in Hellboy takes place :) Right now, there are two productions working in the studio: the second season of The Borgias and The World Without End. Unfortunately we couldn't get a glimpse of either of them :( (even though we saw the back of The Borgias' open air set)**


	183. 181 Beach

**181. Beach**

POV: Third person (sort of Lissa's)

Word count: 140

She remembered watching Rose run into the water, squeal and laugh and splash around, enjoying herself like maybe never before. She had taken off her shoes and walked around in the sand barefoot, then standing on the thin line where the waves made the sand muddy, just to feel the water wash away the grains from under her feet. Rose had even made her take off her own slippers and stand beside her. They had laughed together when they had almost fallen after a more power wave.

All that sun had made her weary, but she stood it heroically, only for Rose, because she had been so happy and carefree and so at peace there.

So it only made sense to her that now, after so many decades spent together, she would scatter the ashes of her best friend here.

**A/N: I know, I know… sad stuff again. But after all, Moroi do tend to live longer than dhampirs, so it is most likely that Rose would die first. But I promise I'll try to come up with something happier tomorrow :) Anyway, it's my "nameday" today :P it's like a mini-birthday around here (It's also celebrated in Austria and Germany too, at least I think so).**

**EDIT: Sorry for the horrendous amount of mistakes in this one - I wrote it really, and simply didn't have the will to proof-read it. Hopefully, all the mistakes are correct now :)**


	184. 182 Tears

**182. Tears**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 169<p>

I hold up the garment, eyeing it being a little sad. But after all, it is completely my own fault.

I had to go shopping with Lissa. I had to fell in love with this dress at first sight. I just had to buy it. But it's okay until this point – the problem started after I came home.

I just had to wear tonight – after all, we went out with Dimitri. Then I just had to tease him all night – now, that was a mistake. Okay, not really, since we had some great sex after we had come home, and it was amazing, but yet, my new dress is in shreds.

I am not angry with him, not at all – I think I couldn't even be angry with anyone, considering the amount of endorphins still present in my system. But still… I am sorry for the dress; it was such a nice one.

(I am not angry – but if only I played on a little bit on his conscience…)

**A/N: I hope you liked this one :) I promised a funny one yesterday, but the prompt was a little bit difficult for it – but I managed somehow :) Anyway, the first part – of two – of my Azula-centric Avatar story is up :) Go, check it out – I dare you :P**


	185. 183 Cookies

**183. Cookies**

POV: Rose

Word count: 149

"Okay, let me get it straight: you are baking cookies." Mia said, while leaning back to the counter casually.

"Yep. Exactly." I replied, while I had my gaze fixed on the measuring bowl.

"You. Baking. Cookies." She still was unable to process this.

"Chocolate chip ones. For Dimitri. I just want to surprise him." I shrugged, like it was nothing. Mia grimaced.

"Well, let's hope that he will survive your little surprise"

"Hey, I am not that bad!"

But, as it turned out, I was. When I pulled the cookies out of the oven, they were nothing more than charred, black clumps.

"Well, I don't think that they are edible…" Mia started, but I cut in.

"Don't even start!" I dumped to cookies to the trash bin. "You saw nothing. I didn't bake anything. Now, come with me to the confectionery. I need to by some cookies for dinner."

**A/N: Actually, I faced a situation just like this once :) A very sweet guy classmate of mine tried to bake muffins a few weeks ago – he brought some to school, trying to show them off to us girls, but honestly, they looked like burned meatballs :D **


	186. 184 Apple

**184. Apple**

POV: None

Word count: 130

Lissa watches Christian bite into his apple from afar. He is sitting alone in the cafeteria, by one of those horrible, featureless tables and the light of the fluorescent lamps reflects back from the skin of the fruit.

It is not a romantic setting by any means. Yet…

She knows she should hate him. Or at least stay away from him, for her own good. He is dangerous. He is a rebel. He plans to become a Strigoi (not that she believes the rumors she hears in the halls and the classrooms, of course). He should be avoided. But…

She is drawn to him by an otherworldly force. And it's good. And she can't resist, anyway.

She bites into her own apple.

Yes, the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.


	187. 185 Short

**185. Short**

POV: Rose

Word count: 212

There is one thing I really hate about being a Guardian: Hans' boring, hour-long speeches about the week's happenings, what he calls a discussion, on every Friday. I swear, we could list it as the fourth way to kill Strigoi: enclose them in a small room with Hans and his diagrams. It would be a painful death, but I am sure it would be efficient.

Every week I feel a strong need to slack it, but there are no excuses: you have to be there and endure. And as far as I know, it's the general opinion on it.

So, you can imagine my, not to mention every single Guardian's, surprise, when he finished his little "this needs to be done"-session after only twenty minutes, and left the room in hurry.

Everybody stayed in the room, being too surprised to move, then after a few minutes a low conversation started about whatever his problem could be.

Of course, it was the moment when I had to let my voice to be heard.

"Well, he sure has a date."  
>It took about fifteen minutes till the laughter, caused by the absurdity of the idea, died down.<p>

But nobody wanted to laugh when a picture of Hans and a woman appeared on his desk.


	188. 186 Spirit

**186. Spirit**

POV: Rose

Word count: 147

"So, it's not the first time you have drunk Russian vodka."

I could only shook my head in response, though even that little movement caused my stomach stir. Dimitri continued.

"You drank it on my funeral." Slight nod. "And got trashed." Muffled agreement. "Yet, you just had to try it again last night." Slight nod. "And got into a drinking game with the local guys." An irritated groan. "And got trashed again." A painful moan. Dimitri lifted my hair from my face, so he could look into my eyes. "So, what's the moral of the story?"

"I will never, ever touch alcohol ever again. Never." Came my reply, somewhat muffled by the pillow. He laughed quietly.

"I want to hear it when you have slept through your hangover as well." He bent down and kissed my forehead. "But until then I'll get you something for your headache."

**A/N: I didn't want to elaborate in the drabble, but in my mind it takes place when Dimitri finally visits his family in Siberia and takes Rose with her. They have a little welcome-party, and well… you know what happens :D Anyway, I think Dimitri is more amused by her antics than be angry at her :P I have also discovered that when I am down in the dumps writing a funny drabble helps lifting my mood a lot :P**


	189. 187 Window

**187. Window**

POV: Rose

Word count: 225

I let Mia lead me through the unknown hallways of an administrative building at Court.

"Okay, where I we going?" I asked after some time, loosing my patience.

"Nowhere – we are here." She said, stopping at a small, deserted alcove with a window looking at the courtyard.

"Wow, Mia, a window. That's great. Can I go now?"

"Wait a minute…" She said, peeking at her watch. "I mean, exactly four minutes. Just wait." she added, when she saw that I was about to mouth back. But I held my horses, and rested my elbows on the windowsill. And waited – but not for long.

Approximately four minutes after our arrival, just as Mia predicted, a few guys – hot, dhampir guys, about our age – arrived in shorts and tight tees, and started doing their warm ups.

"Seniors of the Court's own Guardian Academy. Aren't they just…" She waved her hands, trying to find the right words.

"I know…" I agreed, but then added: "But I am taken." I shrugged, starting to leave, but Mia stopped me.

"Hey, you can take a look at the menu even if you are on diet." She said with a devilish smile.

"You know what? You are right." I said, returning her smile and resting my elbows on the windowsill again. "Now, tell me… which one do you have a crush on?"

**A/N: Don't you just love that little metaphor? :D It's something my mother often says. My other favorite is "I have promised to be faithful not to be blind" :P **


	190. 188 Ribbon

**188. Ribbon**

POV: none

Word count: 155

Lissa grabbed the box, placed it neatly on the table and started to wrap the ribbon around it. The ribbon twisted. She undid it and tried again. And again. She got it right on the sixth try, so she moved to the bow. On the first try the knot came undone, and the whole ribbon fell of the box. She groaned, but tried again, trying to keep calm. She got the ribbon on the box again, and managed to tie the knot (it only took her ten more minutes), and tried the bow again. She folded the ends gently, placing one over the other, pulling it even more gently… Again, it came undone.

Frustrated, she pushed the box to the other end of the tabled and sighed loudly, crossing her arms.

Christian laughed at her antics.

"Give it up, Liss – that ribbon decided to be your arch-enemy. I'll get you a gift-bag in a minute."


	191. 189 Pretty

**189. Pretty**

POV: None

Word count: 163

All her life, Janine had been called many things. Fierce. Talented. Hot-headed. Dangerous. Trustworthy.

She was at the top of her class, graduated with honors, and everybody said that there was a bright future ahead of her. Everybody saw the Guardian in her. Only the Guardian. Of course, some called her hot, and sometimes described some of her parts in a quite approving, yet vulgar, way. But nobody saw the real woman in her. But she didn't really miss it either. After all, she really was a Guardian first, only a woman after it.

Then Ibrahim came along, and he made her feel like a woman – a desired, loved and weak in her knees.

And when she showed up on their first date, all pampered up in a little black dress, her curls arranged neatly, and he called her pretty – not hot, not fierce, not dangerous, but pretty – she knew she wanted to spend her life with him.

Only destiny had different plans.

**A/N: These two are really starting to grow up on me… A new little contest, anybody? **


	192. 190 Mirror

**190. Mirror**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 128<p>

After the incident – that's what Tasha liked to call her brother and sister-in-law turning into Strigoi and trying to kill her – she hated to look into the mirror for years.

Firstly, there was physical pain. The bite-mark didn't heal easily, and hurt and it was ugly. And it remained so. All she saw in the mirror was a freak, a failure. No matter how it hurt her, she was vain and she wanted her beauty back.

Then years passed, and she started to see things in a different way. Her face became a tool instead of something to be ashamed of. Her scars made her proud, not shy. And her reflection became a reminder of her goals instead of a fateful night.

All Strigoi had to be killed.

**A/N: Have you noticed how I am falling more and more into third person? :P Anyway, I am proposing a new little contest :P (since the last winner still hasn't claimed her gift :S). We have ten more drabbles till we reach the 200th, and right now this story has 82442 hits. Your task is to guess how many hits this story will have at the exact moment I'll upload the 200th drabble :) You can send your guesses in both via PM and review and each person can have only one guess. The one closest to the actual amount will get a one-shot of their choice :)**


	193. 191 Straight

**191. Straight**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 152<p>

There was only one time when I was foolish enough to get into an argument about faith with a firm believer. It happened on the train to Siberia, and the person I had the argument with happened to be Sydney.

"I refuse to admit that I am a lesser being just because I born to be a girl" I told her at one point when we were discussing gender roles in faith and 'real life'. "I mean, I am able to do everything a man can. Damn, I am doing a man's job. I am their equals, if not more. You know what? I am proud to say that I am a feminist." And I really was damn proud.

But as I said this Sydney's eyes went wide with surprise, and she uttered out:  
>"But you are not lesbian, right?"<p>

I did the only reasonable thing I could: I burst out laughing.

**A/N: Funniest thing about this? It actually happened to me :D (I am, well, not atheist, because I believe a lot of things, for example in fate, but I don't agree with Christian beliefs, and I really am a feminist) Only, I have known the girl I had the argument with for three years, and I didn't burst out laughing, only much later :D **


	194. 192 Box

**192. Box**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 206<p>

I was sitting at the table in Lissa's private living room, nursing a mug of hot chocolate, enjoying my day off, and watching Christian circle the Christmas tree in the middle of the room. It was a quite amusing sight.

Of course, he tried to make it look like he was there by accident, not called to the tree by an alluring box bearing his name in Lissa's handwriting. Oh, not at all. He was way above childish things like this. At least that was what he'd said.

No, he just set the pillows right in the arm chair, sneaking a peek at the box. Readjusted an ornament and accidentally knocked over the box with his foot while doing so. Then he picked it up to put it back to its place, carefully measuring its weight.

Of course he wasn't intrigued about its content, oh, not at all. He was way too mature for that.

I chuckled into my mug, turning to Lissa.

"Will you have mercy on him, and let him open it tonight, or will you let him suffer a little more?"

Lissa looked so smug I have never seen her before.

"Well, it's still up to debate…" I so, so loved this girl.

**A/N: Am I the only one who's already into the Christmas spirit? :D (I know, I am hopeless…)**


	195. 193 Piano

**193. Piano**

POV: Adrian  
>Word count: 189<p>

There was only one time, I was around nine then, when my mother tried to get me study music. Her first step was to buy a piano. It was an old – antique! -, but otherwise shimmering and quite pretty instrument. She had it placed in the middle of our living room, and I have to admit, it was a quite nice sight.

But then she just had to get me a music tutor. She was an old crone with a squeaky voice and stern attitude. I hated her from the moment I met her, and I didn't like her lessons any better.

I tried to discuss it with my mother, but she was adamant – somebody in such a high status as me should know a little about music, she said. So, the lessons stayed on schedule.

But not for long – my abilities were blooming, and the tutor's will was pretty weak. It was almost too easy to get her set the piano on fire by using a little bit of compulsion.

I didn't even get punished for it – after all, I was no fire user. Only my tutor was.


	196. 194 Shave

**194. Shave**

POV: Rose

Word count: 145

When we were around twelve, Mason started insisting that he had to start shaving. I laughed at him without shame.

"You, shaving?" I said, pointing at his baby-smooth face. "Not in this century, that's for sure."

He tried to act offended, bu it wasn't working quite right for him.

"Ah, Rose, you're a woman, you can't understand the finest aspects of a man's existence!"

"Yeah, whatever you say, oh, manliest of all men!" I answered, still fighting with my laughter.

Next day when he came into class, his face was full of small cuts. Apparently, he had tried shaving. Not that he would have admitted it.

"I fell into a rose bush, okay?" He said a little bit too defensively when asked. Of course, everybody knew what had really happened.

Mason never tried shaving again. Not until his dying day.

**A/N: Sorry for the little delay – I spent the night at my best friend's place, and didn't have time for the update – but expect another drabble tonight :) Oh, anyway, Avatar-folks out there – my friend and I visited a tea house yesterday, and they had Jasmine Dragon tea :P**


	197. 195 Trash

**195. Trash**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 184<p>

When we were on run we often lived with humans, disguising our true identities. Times like these, Rose and I tried to mold into the household as much as we could. Meaning we took our part in the household chores. We cleaned dishes, vacuumed, dusted, washed, anything you can imagine – it seems so long ago now.

There was only one little accident. It was about a year after we left the Academy, and there were some disappearings in our neighborhood. So, no wonder that we were on edge.

Then one night, our roommate asked me to take out the trash. Much after sundown. I panicked – right, I could have used compulsion on him, I know now. Only, I couldn't think of it then. But I knew that I couldn't leave the house all alone in the dark. But I couldn't refuse him outright, either.

That was when my hero – heroine – came to my rescue.

"Hey, didn't you here that it means bad luck to take out the trash after the sun has set?"

Oh, Rose and her nonchalance comments. They can be life saving.

**A/N: It's true! My grandma wouldn't let me take out the trash after sundown for years!**


	198. 196 Cut

**196. Cut**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 135<p>

I watched Dimitri from the corner of my eye as I talked with Mia about my impeding trip to the hairdresser. He tried to make it look like he wasn't interested at all, but he couldn't fool me – I know him too well.

"So, what style do you have in mind?" Mia asked, resting her chin in her palms. I smiled a little bit devilishly. Now, it was time to catch him.

"Well, I am thinking about something short, spiky, even. Maybe with red tips…" Right, Dimitri wasn't listening. Only turned his gaze on me for a fraction of a second, looking petrified.

And no matter how I tried to convince him that I was only fooling around, he insisted accompanying me to the hairdresser's. Just to make sure that I didn't do something _stupid_.


	199. 197 Scars

**197. Scars**

POV: Christian  
>Word count: 131<p>

I saw them, I caressed them, I kissed them. I hated them.

Small, thin, silvery scars of old cuts on Lissa's arms. We have never talked about them, I have never asked her about them, yet I knew what they were, and she knew that I knew.

She had cut herself, back during the days when her life was full of darkness caused by the spirit, and she knew no escape – so she had made one by pain.

I really, really hated them. I could accept Aunt Tasha's scars – there was somebody to blame for, somebody to be mad at, somebody to plot revenge against. I could do something.

But what could I do against magic?

Nothing. All I can do is hold her close to me and help her forget.


	200. 198 Shave

**198. Shave**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 210<p>

Okay, I admit, it was pretty much like in a horror movie. Bloody footprints and droplets of blood all over the tiles, from the bathroom to the kitchen and back to the bathroom (hey, was it my idea to keep the antiseptics in the kitchen cabinet?).

Yeah, definitely like in a low-budget horror movie. The look on Dimitri's face only confirmed it – he looked like he thought someone was killed in our apartment. Which, in the first moments after entering the kitchen, he might did. (Okay, I admit – that look was priceless!)

"Rose…" He started, and I couldn't really place his tone. There was some fear in it, some annoyance, maybe some suppressed anger… it was pretty much like when I was still his student, and didn't work as I should have. And I talked back.

"Don't worry; I just cut myself while shaving." I even stuck my injured (still dripping blood), naked leg for the show (okay, I hoped that he would enjoy the view. Well, not the blood…), but he didn't react, only moved his gaze along the footprints from the kitchen counter to the bathroom door. He looked dead serious. "And I'll clean it up…" I added, pulling my leg back.

(It's so much not my day.)

**A/N: At first, I tried to make it in DPOV, but it simply wasn't working, so I stuck with Rose. I hope it wasn't too terrible. Anyway, something like that happened to me last term :D In my dorm, we live at the end of the corridor, and the showers are in the middle. I cut my leg, badly – my slippers were full of my blood. And as I went back to my room, I really left bloody footprints all the way :D Everybody was mortified. I was the only one who was laughing :D (anyway, I still have the scar to prove it)  
>ALSO: new poll on my profile. Please, vote.<strong>


	201. 199 Razor

**199. Razor**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 195<p>

"What would you get your father, who you hardly know, and has probably enough money to buy whole Europe for Christmas?" I said, thinking out loud, lifting my gaze from my list, making Lissa and Christian both chuckle.

"Why don't you get him, I don't know, a book about organized crime?" Christian suggested with a mischievous smirk on his face. I considered throwing the closest thing to me at him, but since that was a rather expensive-looking vase, I decided otherwise.

"Lissa, make you boyfriend behave, or I can't guarantee that he lives to see the New Year!"

Lissa only shook her head, tired of our bickering.

"Christian, hold you horses!" She said with total lack of enthusiasms. "And Rose, don't worry about it. Get him something simple, a sweater, maybe. It's the thought that counts." Yeah, she is my wise, nation-ruling best friend.

"Yeah, that would be hilarious!" I laughed. "Can you imagine that pompous old man, taking off all his flashy scarves and pulling a sweater over his bearded-" I paused in my train of thought. "Wait a minute…"

And that's the story of how I got a razor my father for Christmas.

**A/N: Again, a Christmas-themed drabble :P You might see more like this in the following weeks :P Anyway, tomorrow's the day :P You can still send in your guesses.**


	202. 200 Boot

**200. Boot**

POV: Eddie  
>Word count: 217<p>

It was annoying, to say at least.

All that "hey, new guy" and "fresh meat, do this and that". It didn't matter that I could have knocked them into next week singlehandedly, they still looked down on me, because I was the boot. That guy who had just left the Academy, and so was the perfect target for their pity jokes.

I started to get enough of them when they replaced my jacket with a baby blanket.

But I still hold myself back. It wouldn't help my situation if I made a scene, I kept telling myself. And anyway, life is supposed to solve problems like that.

And it sure as hell did, as simple as it is.

One day, near the end of my shift in the office, Belikov came in for a few moments, and as he was leaving, he turned to me.

"Oh, and Eddie, Rose asked me to tell you that a few of us are having a little get together in the Queen's quarters tonight. She would like you to come, too."

The other Guardians' eyes widened. So I was on friendly terms with Dimitri Belikov _and_ Rose Hathaway, _and_ they were inviting me to the Queen's quarters? My status skyrocketed among them in an instant.

So much for the booty, guys.

**A/N: And what about the contest? :P You'll see the outcome tomorrow :P (yes, I am that cruel :P)**


	203. 201 Past

**201. Past**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 142<p>

Do you remember when we first met?

Ours was no love at first sight. To be honest, I was pretty mad at you. I mean, you caught us, and dragged us back to the Academy. But then I guess I wasn't your favorite person back then either.

Do you remember when you started to train me?

I always talked back and teased you, but you bore it good naturedly. We never raised our voices then. Even during those early days, it was clear as water that we understood each other perfectly.

Do you remember when we first started having feelings for each other?

Well, I can't talk for you; I wrote mine feelings off as a simple, unrealistic crush. And what did you feel? You have never told me…

And do you remember when we first kissed?

Would you have it otherwise?

**A/N: Again, first part of a three-drabble arc, just like You, Me and You & Me :) I hope you'll like it :)**

**So, as for the competition :P Well, you have pretty much underestimated this story :P all the guesses I got were along the lines of 84-85 thousand (expect for one, which was over 95K). And the actual number of hits is – drum rolls please – 88753! :) And the winner is Crazyvampirefan with her guess of 86781. Congrats! :) I'll contact you shortly about your prize :)**


	204. 202 Present

**202. Present**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 165<p>

There was a time when you looked at me, and all I saw in your eyes were love and adoration. Do you remember those times? I don't think so…

When you look at me now, I can't see your former self. I can't see the love you once held for me, only a feral want. You claim that you want me – and I don't question this (I want you too…).

But where are those times when I looked into your eyes, and could almost read your thoughts in them? When your massaged my battered hands and kissed away my tears? Now you are only keeping my locked away from my world and keep biting my neck.

How have we come to this? (I was meant to kill you…)

There was a time, when I waited for this time to come, when I could with you without being afraid, but now, I want to go back in time…

(Please, hold me again like you used to…)

**A/N: Breaking news! :D I finally, finally got hold of a copy of Bloodlines! :) I have only read the first chapter so far, but I mean to change this fact right after I uploaded this drabble :)**

**And please, wish me luck, and send me all your positive energies starting with tomorrow 9 am (GTM+1), since I am going to take the first round of my advanced level English language exam then!**


	205. 203 Future

**203. Future**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 118<p>

It's over. We won.

And what happens now?

What do you think, where will we be in a year, in five years, in a decade?

I am sure we will be there for Lissa, guarding her. Would you have it otherwise? I wouldn't. That's our destiny.

It won't be easy, I know. But you will be there for me, right? We were meant for each other.

What do you think, will we grow old together? Get silver-haired and wrinkled? Live in a small cabin up on the mountains, like I once envisioned? Or die young, like so many Guardians? It seems more likely, doesn't it?

But I am not afraid. Not until I have you by my side.

**A/N: I survived the first round of my exam :D Does anybody care to be bothered with the details? :D Anyway, I am finally reading Bloodlines. Currently, I am in chapter 6, and loving it so far :)**


	206. 204 Rain

**204. Rain**

POV: Jill  
>Word count: 113<p>

It's a nice place, really. I mean, it's a lot nicer than the Academy in several aspects. The dorm is cool. My room is big and new and comfortable and… yeah, it's good. Better than my old one. And my roommate is… well, Sydney is okay. Rose said I would like her, I just wish she wouldn't be so uptight.

The neighborhood is quite pretty, too. And the palm trees are kind of cool. They are a nice change after all those pines.

Okay, I have no reason to complain. It's a nice place, period. And they had a very good reason to put me here.

If only it rained a little here…

**A/N: First Bloodlines drabble :P The prompt just simply reminded me of Jill's comment that there is much less humidity in palm Spring than she is used to. Also, I didn't want to go too deep into the story – I still have no idea what happens at the end of the book. But this secret Keith has drives me crazy…**


	207. 205 Towel

**205. Towel  
><strong>POV: Rose  
>Word count: 173<p>

There are some things I most certainly hate in living on my own (well, with Dimitri). One of them is tidying up my – our - mess. Vacuuming, doing the dishes, doing laundry. Urgh.

Yet, one can find some amusing things to do while doing the household chores. Let me illustrate this with a simple example.

It was a slow day, and I was collecting all the dirty clothes around our flat. My last stop was the bathroom – where I found Dimitri, who was quite preoccupied by washing his hair in the shower. He didn't even hear me come in.

My gaze wandered to his towel, neatly put out next the shower cabin within arm's length. I looked around – there was absolutely nothing else towel-like in the bathroom.

Well, it did look pretty dirty… And, with that, I stuffed into my bag.

Then, when I put everything into the washing machine, I sprawled on the bed, waiting for the show to start.

After all, we only had towels in the wardrobe in the bedroom…

**A/N: I know it's a nasty thing to say, but I am a little bit unhappy that none of you had anything to say about yesterday's drabbles. Were they that bad?  
>Anyway, wish me luck – I am taking part in a country-wide English competition tomorrow. <strong>


	208. 206 Control

**206. Control**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 124<p>

It was no secret that Abe loved to be in control.

He loved to know what his employees were doing, what his peers were up to, what was going on the market. He liked when things were going the way he wanted. He liked to have people in his pocket. It made him feel powerful, invincible. It's what made him the person he was. It also made him _zmey_ – people were fool to think that he didn't know what he was called behind his back – but it didn't bother him.

But then when it came to Janine… No matter how tough and in-charge he managed to seem to an outsider, he would have submitted to her any time, gladly.

In more than one ways.

**A/N: Chapter 15 in Bloodlines :P Gosh, I so saw this thing about Jill and Adrian coming! And I think I have already put together what's happening behind the Moroi murders… (it's weird, wanting to tell you guys what I am reading and how enthusiastic I am about it, yet not giving away any spoilers to the ones who hasn't read it :S Is there anybody who wants to discuss it in pm? :D)**

**Anyway, part II of my Azula-centric AtLA fic is up!**


	209. 207 Dating

**207. Dating**

POV: Abe  
>Word count: 232<p>

When I had finally become a part of Rose's life, at first I only thought about the fun parts of being a father, if I can say so – like spoiling her a little, showing her off the my peers, organizing her a great graduation party (since I had missed her birthday). But it soon dawned upon me – there's one thing most teenage girls are rather fond of doing.

Dating. Every father's nightmare. Apparently, mine as well.

The first guy who came into the picture was Adrian Ivashkov. Let me get it straight: I didn't really have any problem with the guy. Apart from the partying and the occasional craziness, he was quite decent and he looked out for Rose. Actually, this was the problem: he was a little bit too much interested in Rose for my liking.

So, being the great father I was, I scared him a little. Not too much, just to break him in a little. So just he had a clear picture of what to expect if he messed with my daughter. I did quite a good job with him, and even managed to somehow get comfortable with the idea of him and Rose being together.

And then, right after I accepted them as a couple Rose dumped him and got together with Belikov.

And I had to start everything from the beginning.

Oh, the joys of fatherhood.

**A/N: Can't you just see it going on in Abe's mind? :D Anyway, I am in chapter 22 in Bloodlines :P Only 90 more pages to go :(**


	210. 208 Together

**208. Together**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 126<p>

Rose Hathaway was lethal, dangerous and beautiful. A real Femme Fatal. She was quick to react, sometimes a little bit too quick; she tended to act without thinking first. She was hot-headed and witty. She was someone to fear.

Dimitri Belikov was controlled, fast and powerful. He had a wilder side, but he hid it well. He was a great warrior, a respectable man, someone to look up to. He was also a man of his word, and somebody who loved passionately. He fought his enemies mercilessly. He was someone to be scared of.

Together, they matched. They complemented each other in a way no-one thought was possible. Not just during a fight, but in every other part of life as well.

Together, they were unstoppable.

**A/N: I finished Bloodlines! :) Gosh, I really didn't see the events of the last chapter coming. Now, I see Abe in a completely different light :P Alright, I have a question for you guys: do you want to see Bloodlines drabbles as well, or should I just strictly stick VA ones? **


	211. 209 Happy

**209. Happy**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 143<p>

Happy. Such an interesting, oft-used word. We use it so many times – 'I am happy to see you.' 'I would be so happy if you did this or that.' 'Doing my job makes me happy.'

But do we mean it? No, I don't think so. Do we even know what real happiness feels like? Rarely.

When I was younger, I often thought I was happy. To some extent, I was. But really, I had to live almost twenty-five years to experience real happiness.

Do you know what else is interesting and amazing about happiness? It finds you in the most unexpected places, at the most unexpected times.

For me, the first time was high in the mountains, while I was lying in the snow, gazing up at the near-white sky. It was hiding in the laughing eyes of the girl right beside me.

**A/N: Alright, I am pretty happy with this one :) Quite reminds me of the first one hundred drabbles :P Anyway, there's something I meant to tell you yesterday, but I forgot: yesterday, my American teacher (she teaches one English lesson a week, comes from Pittsburg, and doesn't speak Hungarian at all) almost made me cry – in a good way. She handed out some corrected homework, and to the bottom of mine she wrote: "It must be hard to still be in high school. It is not always the place where your ambitions and talents will be appreciated by your peers. To those whom much is given, much is expected. You will be brilliant once you accept your brilliance. Do not be afraid to shine." It touched me so much that I almost started crying right there. Sorry for boring you with this :D**

**Anyway, wish me luck, I am taking my oral English exam tomorrow!**


	212. 210 Abe

**210. Abe**

POV: Sydney  
>Word count: 148<p>

Abe Mazur is not somebody to trust, and everybody knows that.

He is sly – even slyer in reality than he appears to be. He is trafficking illegal goods. None of the Alchemists knows what kind of goods they are, nor we have evidence against him, but people talk, and they tend to be right about these things.

He is not above revenge. Bloody revenge, when somebody often gets disabled for life. He might even have his enemies' legs set in cement and thrown into a river – I wouldn't be surprised if he did.

He makes sure that every favor done by him is paid back tenfold – at least. And in payment, he makes his debtors do unholy things.

But I need a favor now – a nasty, evil favor. And I know that no-one else would do it for me.

It's time to make a deal with the devil.

**A/N: Here you go :P I feel like this drabble is much like a Hungarian folktale – I can tell you it if you want me to :P In short, here is this drabble, which is kind of BL, but not really. After all, we knew even during Spirit Bound that Abe did something for Sydney…**

**Anyway, thanks for everybody who was with me during my exam :) I passed, but barely :S Mostly, the examiner was quite nasty. I mean, the first task was to have a discussion with her, where she determined the topic. I heard the guy who went before me talking, and he was asked things like what is he writing his thesis on and where is he an intern now – a piece of cake. I could have answered questions like these at five a.m. And then what did she ask me about? Healthy life. But it went on like this: Why should you eat much fruit? Well, I told her that because it's healthy and has many vitamins it and. Silence. And what else? – she asked (_go to hell_). Why is obesity dangerous? Well, obese people have a higher risk for heart diseases, they have a shorter lifespan… And? – Always this and… Of course, I had no idea what else she wanted to hear! Then the next task: describe and tell your opinion about the following thing: personal loan (_again, go to hell_). Dammit, I can't even talk about it in Hungarian, let alone in English! **

**Okay, that's for my rant :) Sorry for having bored you guys with it :)**


	213. 211 Bite

**211. Bite**

POV: Eddie  
>Word count: 194<p>

Strigoi bite is not something you can easily forget, especially when you were bitten so many times that you had become addicted. This is what happened to me.

When we got back to the Academy after Spokane I spent a week in the infirmary – my stay there actually was nothing else than a withdraw-therapy. And to be honest, it didn't really work.

After that week, I still longed for the bite. Any kind of bite. I just wanted to be bitten; there was nothing else on my mind. Maybe that's why I agreed on that little kind-of-affair with that junior Moroi girl. She wanted somebody to make out with – maybe go even further – and to bite. I wanted somebody who would bite me, and would have done anything for it. We were the perfect match. There were no emotions.

It lasted for about a week. It was kind of spirit-lifting for me. We did wild things, and she made me high. It was wrong.

But I only realized this when Alberta called me to her office to talk about the bite marks on my neck.

Humiliation helped me to find the right path again.

**A/N: Can't you just see it happening?**


	214. 212 Endorphins

**212. Endorphins**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 170<p>

Endorphins – those useful, little hormones that make you feel happy and high. Oh, how I love them.

They are usually there in your veins, but there are some things that boost their numbers.

One thing like this is, for example, Moroi bite. I have had experience with it. Actually, I have had a rather long and meaningful relationship with it – two years long, to be exact. When we were on the run with Lissa, she often bit me. I didn't complain – it was her only way to survive. And anyway, I quite enjoyed it.

Then there is Strigoi bite. I have tried that one too, though not voluntarily. Alright, after a few days, I didn't put up much of a resistance. No resistance at all, actually. But yet, it's a dirty, wrong thing. And dangerous. (God, I sound like an old crone.)

But do you know what the best endorphin source is?

Lying in a post-coital haze in the arms of the man you love.

Now, try that one out.


	215. 213 Drunk

**213. Drunk**

POV: Adrian  
>Word count: 162<p>

During that short time I was together with Rose, we had some great parties in my room, away from the teachers' watchful eyes. Me, Rose, Lissa, Ozera, sometimes other dhampir friends of Rose's. They provided the mood, I provided the booze.

And, truth to be told, I liked to get trashed during these evenings. Rose didn't like it. She claimed that it was a violation of our "dating contract". Most of the times, I acted like I didn't even hear her.

Okay, it wasn't nice, I admit.

But then one night I passed out while they were still over. It was a grave mistake.

The next morning I woke up with a pounding headache, my nails painted electric pink, little bows in my hair and a beard drawn on my face with permanent marker.

It was a nice prank, I give it to them.

But it also taught me not to fell asleep while they are around. Especially when I am drunk.

**A/N: Soon to come: a lighthearted, family-themed kind-of-Zutara one shot. About 80% of it is written so far. **


	216. 214 Jealousy

**214. Jealousy**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 189<p>

Dimitri Belikov is not a jealous man. Not at all.

After all, he didn't crash the face of Zeklos when he found him in a rather inappropriate position with the woman of his dreams – I mean, with his student. He only scared him a little. (Well, they were doing something that violated the rules of the school.)

And he didn't throw his dignity away when Rose began dating Ashford. He convinced himself that it was better for both of them. But this doesn't mean that he didn't want to grab Ashfrod's hands and shout at him about never dare to touch Rose again, because he did. Once or twice. All right, quite often. All right, pretty much every time he saw them together.

And much later, he even encouraged Rose to be with Ivashkov. Yes, some inner, remaining Strigoi in him wanted to snap his neck, but he still encouraged the relationship.

So no, Dimitri Belikov is not a jealous man.

But if the obnoxious Moroi keeps flirting with Rose and touches her arm again, he swears to God, he will, Guardian etiquette tossed aside, beat him to pulp.

**A/N: I saw Gift of the Night Fury, a new, 22-minute-long short film for How to Train Your Dragon today :) I am a great fan of the original movie, and this little one was just so damn adorable :) I laughed out loud on more occasions than I can count, and the end almost brought tears to my eyes. I recommend it to everyone :)**


	217. 215 Protective

**215. Protective**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 156<p>

I felt truly lonely after Rose left for Russia.

It's not just that she's my best friend. I have other friends, too – at least, that was what I kept telling myself – and I also have Christian. But still… Rose had always been by my side, since our preschool days. I can't even remember what my life was like before I met Rose.

And she had not only been there, but she had also always protected me. From nasty words, from balls while playing dodge ball, from evil maniacs. From myself.

And she had always done it willingly.

Without her, I was more vulnerable than ever. Every corner held a new threat, and there was no-one to protect me.

But her absence also taught me some important things: for one, that I can't always rely on her. Two, that protection should be a two-way thing.

Now, that she's back it's time to put these ideas into practice.

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! :) To be honest, it's my first real experience with this holiday. Of course, I knew that it existed before, and that families usually have a big, filling meal with turkey on this day, but technically, that's all. Then today, my American teacher (you know, the nice lady I told you about a few drabbles ago :)) asked us what we were thankful for. I told her that I was thankful for my friends and family, and for not having a writer's block :P Anyway, what are you thankful for?**

**The Avatar one-shot I told you about is almost done. I still have to proof-read it one more time, then find a title for it, and then it's ready to be uploaded :)**


	218. 216 Castle

**216. Castle**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 173<p>

There's one thing that Victor Dashkov taught me: how to play chess.

I was twelve, it was summer, and I spent it at Lissa's. Victor was often over, and he always found time for us girls.

There is one particular thing about his teachings that I remember so clearly like it happened yesterday. We were in the living room, sitting at the opposite sides of the chess table, and he was telling me about the pieces. Getting to the castle, he held it up to me to see.

"This is the castle." He put the piece on his palm. "It's a strong piece, good for defending the king and is even willing to make sacrifices for the him, but can move only straight. It's very limited. Narrow-minded, if I can say so. But it's still a very important piece – I couldn't imagine the game without it."

Back then, clinging to his every word, I thought that he was only speaking about chess. Now I know that he was talking the Guardians as well.

**A/N: I passed my language exam! Well, not with flying colors, but still with pretty good scores :) I got 71% on the listening and the oral part put together, and 87% on the written part :)**


	219. 217 Jinx

**217. Jinx**

POV: Karolina  
>Word count: 167<p>

Just like all my younger siblings, I have some basic Guardian training, even If I didn't finish the whole course, but I never believed in violence. To tell the truth, I was the worst in every guarding-related subject in school, and don't even get me started on dealing with guns. When we got there in our training, I outright refused to touch the weapon. I ended up in the principal's office afterwards.

But still had to find a way to protect myself – you see, I have never been on the top of the food chain. There were always people picking on me.

Outright violence was out of the question, of course, but it was okay. I had my secret weapon.

Yeva.

"Say that again, and I'll have my grandma jinx you! I mean it!" That was all I had to say to make anybody go away.

Was it petty? Pretty much. Had it any truth in it? No, not really. But did it work?

Every single time.

**A/N: This prompt was quite difficult for me to write. I started it at least three times with three different ideas – that's why I didn't update yesterday, for what I am terribly sorry.**

**Okay, you might ask why I made Karolina say that she didn't finish her schooling. My answer is easy: mathematics. In Dimitri's funeral scene we got to know that Karolina is two years older than Dimitri (Dimitri was six and Karolina was eight when he was married off to the dolls). Dimitri is around twenty-five during Blood Promise, making Karolina twenty-seven. Paul is around ten, or so it is said. So it seems pretty much like Karolina was a teenage mom. **


	220. 218 Indigo

**218. Indigo**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 141<p>

My new dress, made specifically for tomorrow's banquet, is kind of beautiful.

It's quite conservative, with high collar, held together with one single diamond-topped button at my neck, leaving a narrow slit down to the top of my breasts open, where my skin shows. The sleeves are long and tight, with silver embroidery on the rims. The bodice is tight as well, with pearl buttons on the back. It nicely complements those small curves I have. The skirt is voluminous, long, reaches the floor in great waves. The dress is indigo in color.

Yes, it is beautiful.

The problem is that the first thing that came into my mind when I first saw it was that my favorite pair of jeans is exactly the same color. And that how much I would prefer wearing those jeans again instead of this dress.

**A/N: Now, here comes the apology – I am really, really sorry that I didn't upload yesterday. You might think that it's becoming a trend for my not to update on Saturdays. It is not. Last Saturday and the one before that I was just simply too tired to write anything after my exams. And yesterday – I stated it in the last drabble. So, I am really, really sorry. And I want to make it up to you – maybe by uploading two drabbles tomorrow? **


	221. 219 Trebuchet

**219. Trebuchet**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 134<p>

Finally, the Moroi world was ready for an offensive move against Strigoi. Let me emphasize it: finally.

I was in the group which planned the attack. The target was a smaller Strigoi nest about two hours from Court. It was an easy operation, really – twelve Guardians against three Strigoi -, yet we had every single moment of the attack planned in advance. It even had a name – quite surprisingly, given by Hans: Trebuchet.

Two-thirds of the people present (myself included) had no idea what a trebuchet was. The remaining simply didn't know how a war machine from the middle ages (I googled it afterwards) related to our mission.

So we asked Hans.

"Why do you care so much about a name? Think about the battle ahead of us instead!"

Yeah. He didn't know either.


	222. 220 Marker

**220. Marker**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 245<p>

There is one thing I can tell you about the meetings held by Hans: they are boring. And long (alright, that's two things. Sue me.)

I always try to pay attention, I swear! But usually, after some time, my mind simply wanders away. The fact that there usually different pens and pencils lying around on the table doesn't help a bit.

One day I started fiddling with a black permanent marker. I have no idea who left it there, but I didn't really care.

I was twirling it between my fingers, but somehow it didn't really do the work. I glanced to my left – there sat Dimitri, his full attention on Hans (at least one of knew what he was talking about), his hands on the table.

I smirked and pulled the cap from the marker. Moving slowly, I neared the tip of it to the back of his hand, then swiftly draw a line. He felt it and looked at me, trying to pull his hand away, but I grabbed it and held it in place. I looked into his eyes, and told him without words that I wanted him to keep still. He obliged, turning back to Hans' lecture.

Next a draw a small – lopsided – heart, and finally, an R to the end.

Yes, it was cheesy and egoistic, but can you blame me?

And anyway, he didn't really try anything to get the writing off his hand. It remained there for days.

**A/N: Somehow, when I read the prompt, Taylor Swift's I Heart ? came to my mind :) Oh, how I love that song… Anyway there are only 18 prompts left**


	223. 221 Wind

**221. Wind**

POV: Avery  
>Word count: 167<p>

Everyone thinks that I am an air user – and that's how it should be. A little gust of wind here, a gentle breeze there – nothing exhausting, just one powerful enough to lift my hair – and everybody is fooled.

My father doesn't suspect anything – but then, he is completely blind to almost everything. He didn't even notice the change in Reed, even though he is his only son. He didn't care about what my teachers say about my magic, how weak it seems to be. He only has ears for things that include his own public image.

My teachers… well, they might suspect something. It might be weird for them that even though I claim myself to be an air user, I am still this weak, but none of them made any comment on it yet. And I hope it remains this way.

And if it won't, I can convince them that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me.

After all, I am pretty good at convincing people.

**A/N: My family-centered Avatar one-shot is up! :)**


	224. 222 Water

**222. Water**

POV: Mia  
>Word count: 195<p>

Rose and her stupid ideas.

Yes, I haven't dated in a while. And yes, I haven't had some X-rated fun in a few months (Rose's words, not mine). But this doesn't mean that she has to set me up with the first guy who comes to her mind.

But, of course, this is exactly what she did.

The guy is a Guardian, Rose's age, but they don't know each other well, since he comes from a school on the east coast. But, Rose emphasized, he seems like a nice, funny guy. We would get on well, she said.

Well, she was wrong.

The guy – gosh, I don't even know his name – is obnoxious, stupid, and does nothing but brag about his alleged fights. (I note to myself that apart from his Promise Mark, he has no tattoos.)

He is about to start his tenth anecdote about his greatness, and he is dancing on my last damn nerve. One more word, and I swear, I'll…

…Well, it's not my fault that the waiter tripped by our table, and splashed all the water in his pitcher on him.

Okay, I might have something to do with it.

**A/N: I repeat: only 17 prompts left**


	225. 223 Reins

**223. Reins**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 301<p>

I swear Adrian is dancing on my last damn nerve sometimes.

Just like now, because he just has to sit through my training with Alberta, making witty (at least he thinks they are witty) snide remarks about everything. I am on the verge of erupting; Alberta hides it well, but I see in the set of her mouth that she is close to tell Adrian to go to hell. I wouldn't blame her if she did.

When the practice is finally over, and I am out of the shower (just for the record: he wanted to come after me to the bathroom. I don't know how serious he was about it, and I don't even really care, but he did it in front of Alberta…) I turn to him, my annoyance unleashed.

"You really should learn to hold your horses," I tell him, not even letting him to say a word. "Or at least find something else to do when I am training."

"Oh, but how could I find anything more entertaining around here?" He says, and one of his hands sneaks around my waist, holding me close to him. I let him, because no matter how mad I am at him, I still sorta, kinda love him. "But I quite like the horse analogy. Maybe you could get me some reins…"

"That wouldn't be the worst idea," I say, not even realizing that he is still speaking.

"…And a saddle. But we wouldn't even need that. And then I could teach you how to ride a horse. Of course, since we have none within reach…"

His words sink in a moment, and before he could blink I slap him.

Did I say that he is sometimes dancing on my last nerve?

Well, he does it pretty much every single day.

**A/N: Thank you for the prompts :) You rock, guys! :) Also, I have kittenxxkisses' award one-shot written (I only have to check one little thing before publishing it), and I also have crazyvampirefan's sketched :)**


	226. 224 Cream

**224. Cream**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 182<p>

A few months into her reign, Lissa developed a new obsession (well, that's what I call it. She calls it a hobby): baking.

Now, I have always thought that out of the two of us, I was the one who was completely hopeless when it came to the kitchen. Well, as it turned out, Lissa and I was rowing in the same boat.

This afternoon as I visited her she was trying – and failing – to make some kind of chocolate cream. Okay, let me rephrase it: she was working on something that was supposed to be some kind of chocolate cream.

I peered into her pan and wrinkled my nose.

"Lissa, shouldn't it, I don't know, be a little bit liquid-like? Or at least…" I started, but she didn't let me finish.

"Don't even say a word." She is a tiniest bit irritated. "I would like to see you do it better."

Okay, she had a point here, and I said nothing more. But I didn't take a bite of it either.

But quite enjoyed watching Christian's face as he tasted it.

**A/N: Kittenxxkisses' award one-shot is up! :) And thank you for all the new prompts! :) Now, I have more than 70 of them! :D**


	227. 225 Map

**225. Map**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 181<p>

Great gifts don't have to be pricey or luxurious – actually, what makes a present the best present in the world is that it comes from the bottom of the giver's heart. I know it from experience.

A few days before the anniversary of our first meeting – of that night, when Dimitri dragged Lissa and me back to the Academy – he left for two days, saying that he had some business to take care of, and even though I was terribly curious what it was, I didn't ask.

Then on the morning of our anniversary, he presented me with a book: _100 Best Places to Visit in the World_. And it was not just one random copy: it was the very copy we flipped through in Rubysville. He went there just to get it for me. There was something else in the package as well – a map, with all the places we had said we wanted to visit marked, with only two words written on the bottom of the page: _One day_.

This is the best gift I have ever been given.


	228. 226 Uniform

**226. Uniform**

POV: Alberta  
>Word count: 154<p>

There was only one time when the school board – or more specifically, the rich Moroi financing the school – wanted to reinforce the students to wear uniforms.

It met with great opposition – both from the student body and the Guardian staff. It was mostly because the board wanted to introduce two different uniforms: one for Moroi, one for dhampirs – deepening the already existing gap between the students.

I was the one leading the Guardian committee protesting against the uniform. We wrote letters, petitions, inquired for a meeting with the board… all in vain. We only met with deaf ears.

Then, on the very first day when the students would have had to wear their uniforms, the entire student body went to class in only their underwear. When asked why they had done it, they simply replied: they either wear their own clothing, or nothing.

The question of school uniform has never been brought up again.


	229. 227 Title

**227. Title**

POV: Jill  
>Word count: 135<p>

Princess.

That's what they call me now. Princess Dragomir, last in her line, the only living blood relative of the queen.

It really bothers me.

I mean, I am no princess. I am just an awkward fifteen-year-old, who can even trip on her own feet. I know nothing of the lives of the royals, of etiquette, of Court politics. Yet, I am expected to excel at all of them.

No-one has asked me if I wanted this life. Yes, I wanted to help Lissa. But… but I hoped that after that I could just simply go back home. That my life wouldn't be turned upside down.

I want none of this! I don't want to be a princess, I don't want to be special, I don't want any titles…

Well… Jailbait doesn't sound that bad…

**A/N: I am working on Crazyvampirefan's award one-shot right now – and I am loving it :) It made me realize how much I love writing Rose-Lissa interactions :)**


	230. 228 Russia

**228. Russia**

POV: Sydney  
>Word count: 175<p>

Russia.

Well, it's not Rome, but it's not Congo either. And even though I am biased, I have to admit that the multicolored domes of Saint Petersburg are quite beautiful.

Also, I am more or less my own master here. There are several Alchemists in the city, but I have my own district, and I have to refer to only one person.

True, my district is not a calm one – Strigoi attacks are quite frequent, and if nothing else, they mean a lot of paperwork. And being so far from home is another downside of this assignment. But I can't help it – I actually almost enjoy myself here. I am as free as I'll ever be, and the atmosphere of the city is growing on me.

Yes, I quite like it here.

Well, I used to like it here, up until this maniac started to leave unattended Strigoi corpses behind all around the city. When I finally find him, I'll sure give him a hard time about it.

But do I want to meet him?

**A/N: [Insert maniac laugh here] We initiated out freshmen in the dorm today. The best part of it: after the "ceremony", we seniors, can "ask" the freshmen to come to our rooms and give them tasks. This can be, for example, moping up the floor, but in the neighboring room the girls had two freshmen pick up breadcrumbs from the floor with eyebrow nippers. I was being nice – and according to my roomies, a bad senior -, and only asked a freshman to change my bed sheets. Poor girl, on the first try, she pulled the clean sheets on the old ones XD Then, when she finished, I offered her chocolate – that's why I am a bad senior :D**


	231. 229 Eyes

**229. Eyes**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 160<p>

I think the first thing in Rose I fell in love with was her eyes. Those huge, clear brown orbs, which have always been so expressive, channeling every emotion she has. They are just simply beautiful. I know, I am biased, but look into her eyes and tell me that I am wrong.

They are beautiful even now, as one of them is ringed with bruises. I don't tell her that, because I shouldn't say things like that, and she wouldn't believe me anyway.

Just like she wouldn't believe me if I said that she shouldn't be angry at her mother, because she didn't do it on purpose and that she was sorry. The only thing she sees now is the red veil of anger.

I can just only hope that she will shed it soon, and will see the world as it is again.

See the people who love her in the light she is supposed to see them.


	232. 230 Lipgloss

**230. Lip-gloss**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 221<p>

The very first thing Dimitri gave me – apart from his heart – was a lip-gloss. He had no real reason to buy me anything – he just did it because he wanted to make me happy. I still have this lip-gloss, and treasure it like it was priceless.

So, you can imagine my sadness when I realized one morning that there was very little of the shiny liquid left in the tube. I just sighed, closed the tube and put it back to the mug on the sink where I kept my make-ups. I knew it would be easy to replace it; yet, it wouldn't have been the same. The new lip-gloss wouldn't have the Dimitri-feel in it.

But then this morning, when I pick up the tube from the mug – it is full.

I look at Dimitri who is standing beside me, in the middle of shaving, his face covered in foam. He returns my gaze, smiles slightly, and shrugs. Then I throw my arms around his neck, and not caring about the foam, I kiss him.

I didn't have to say a word to let him know that something was bothering me. He didn't have to say a word to explain me why he'd done it, why he'd bought the lip-gloss. We just work this way.

What's love, if not this?

**A/N: Have you ever though about what a great boyfriend this whole make-up-buying makes Dimitri? I mean, in Vampire Academy, he didn't just simply buy Rose a lip-gloss: he bought exactly the shade Rose had :P Show me one guy who knows what kind of make-up his girlfriend using :P**

**Anyway, Christmas in nearing… Are you on the nice, or the naughty list? :P And what are you asking for from Santa Claus? :P **


	233. 231 Spilled Nail Polish

**231. Spilled Nail Polish**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 149<p>

It started out as such a pleasant day.

I slept in, and slept peacefully. I had an easy, undisturbed day ahead of me, with no obligations. I felt free, careless.

But as I was in the middle of polishing my nails, sitting on my bed, when my door suddenly opened, with such a force that it almost came off its hinges. It startled me so much that I dropped the little bottle from my hand. The nail polish spilled, covering my sheets.

It was Dimitri, completely deranged, speaking with such fervor that I didn't even understand him at first.

Rose, Guardians, accused, some Russian, maybe curses, arrested.

Then I understood it.

I leaped from bed, and followed him out of the door, my hair undone, in my slippers, the nails on one foot painted pink.

And the nail polish only flowed, flowed out of the bottle to the sheets…

**A/N: From here on in, you can also find me on Facebook :) I have brought up the issue before, but now I made up my mind, and did something about it :) You can find me among the pages, under the name Orlissa. Like it, and expect teasers, trivia, extra infos and personal tidbits :)**


	234. 232 Mute Button

**232. Mute Button**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 116<p>

And Stan just goes on and on.

Yeah, he just can't believe me. Yeah, I will never make a decent Guardian.

I wonder when he will take a breath. How can he talk this long without taking a breath?

He is going to put it into my record. He is going to notify Dimitri about it.

I just don't understand him; what problem he has with a little prank?

And I can still be grateful for him for not going to Kirova. But I still better to expect some punishment. Both from him, and, if he can help it, Dimitri, too.

An annoyed sigh leaves my mouth.

Why, oh, why, can't people have a mute button?

**A/N: This one is dedicated to that one single person, who liked my Facebook page :) You rock, girl!**


	235. 233 Sims

**233. Sims**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 174<p>

It was a lazy, boring afternoon, and end of the month, which meant the time when most Guardians – me amongst them - tried to catch up with their reports. Which meant that most Guardians – me amongst them - were confined in the office, their noses burrowed in their notes or their eyes glued to their monitor screens.

It was quiet, it was boring, it was maddening.

Then somebody walked into the room – I knew him by sight, but didn't know his name. He stopped at the door, held up his hand, like he was about to say something, he opened his mouth – by then, everybody was looking at him -, then closed it, let his hand fall, shook his head, and left the room.

Everybody started after him, confused.

The situation simply screamed for some witty comment.

"Well, somebody must have cancelled his action," I said, accompanied with a shrug.

At first, my comment met with utter silence. Then somebody got the joke, and started laughing. A minute later the whole office was guffawing.

**A/N: Now, my Facebook page has 3 likers! :D Can you guys make it seven by tomorrow? :P**


	236. 234 Dawn

**234. Dawn**

POV: Ms. Karp  
>Word count: 167<p>

It's been so long… Three years, or more? I can't even remember.

I am standing on the porch of my house, facing the eastern horizon. The air is rich with the scent of my flowers, most of them already closing their petals, getting ready for the day. Everything is dark yet.

Anticipation builds inside of me. Is this really happening? Will I see the sun again?

I've been Strigoi for so long… Back then, when I chose this life, it seemed to be the only alternative. Now? Now I see what I have been missing.

Slowly, the bottom of the sky is turning purple, then soft pink. My heart seems to stop for a moment.

I fight the urge to close my eyes and get back to the house. No – the sun can harm me no more.

Then the top of the fiery circle appears over the horizon, its soft rays warming my face… I feel like I have been reborn.

I let out a joyous laugh.

**A/N: Hm… I think it's the first time I've written Ms. Karp. What do you think of it? :) Anyway, my Facebook page has 8 likes, and two people are talking about it! :) Thank you, guys! I have crazyvampirefan's award one-shot almost done – a little bit of proof-reading is the only thing left :) It turned out to be quite long, over 6500 words :P **


	237. 235 Summer

**235. Summer**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 238<p>

One day, about half a year after her coronation, I found Lissa in her study, bending over a stack of papers. I walked up to her and sitting on her desk, I peered at them.

"What's that?" I asked. She moved her gaze from the papers, and seemed to be a little bit startled by my presence. She must have been so engrossed with her papers that she hadn't even heard me enter.

"Well…" she started, "I thought that when I will have finished my exams in June, I should pay a visit to some bigger Moroi communities around the world. You know, for maintaining a good relationship with my people…" She pulled out a sheet of paper with her writing on it from the stack. "These are the places I thought I should visit." I took the paper from her.

It really was a list, a list of cities, mostly in Europe, for example London, Paris, Rome… and Saint Petersburg. I have to admit, it sounded good, and even reading the names of the places made me excited.

"Please, tell me you are planning to bring me along," I told her, not even looking up from the list. Lissa immediately cheered up.

"Oh, please, Rose, I wouldn't go anywhere without you."

"Well, that's what I thought," I responded, even sticking out my tongue at her.

Gosh, I am so lucky to have her as my best friend.

**A/N: Not my best, but it's a sort of prequel form my upcoming one-shot, title One Short Day :P Are you excited about it? Should I upload it? :P**

**Anyway, thanks for all the 10 likers on my Facebook page! :) I just want to tell you guys that don't be shy – I created that page so I could maintain a connection with you. Feel free to like, to ask, to bother me :) Everything you do there will be welcomed :)**


	238. 236 Winter

**236. Winter**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 163<p>

It took a lot longer for winter to reach Washington State than Montana – it was already into December when the first snow fell.

One day I woke up, looked out of the window, and all I saw was whiteness. Or, more exactly, blueness, since the snow seemed to be blue in the darkness. I fought back a girlish squeal I didn't know I had in me.

I have never been a big fan of snow, but somehow this new, untouched field appealled to me. Fond memories found their way back to me – last February, in the mountains, making snow angels behind the gas station…

I climbed back to bed, back to Dimitri, who was still asleep; I bugged him until he got up and dressed himself. Twenty minutes later we were out in the great yard of the Court, enjoying having it all to ourselves.

We made new snow angels, overlapping ones, while discovering how good it is kissing in the fresh snow…

**A/N: The new one-shot is up! :) It's titled One Short Day.  
>On the darker side: most likely I won't be able to update tomorrow – there's this whole parade going on in my school right now – we are electing the senior king, who actually has no function – and the biggest party will be held tomorrow night. I'll try to get it done sometime during the afternoon, but I can't promise anything :S<strong>


	239. 237 Desires

**237. Desires**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 110<p>

Want.

She moves, and I just can't keep myself from wanting her.

She smiles and I am hers.

She laughs, and I want her under me, her body pressed to mine, to feel her, to devour her.

But I am strong, and I keep all my desires under control. I force every nerve in my body not to respond to her voice, to her scent, to her curves. She tempts me, constantly, all day and all night, but I fight her, I fight my desires.

But one day, I know, all my defenses will collapse, and I will give in to my desires.

And that day, she will be mine.

**A/N: In two hours we crown the king of our school :P**


	240. 238 Lollipop

**238. Lollipop**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 163<p>

When I still hated Mia, and thought that she was nothing more than a little bitch who was thinking too much about herself, I always thought that the only thing she was missing was a lollipop from her mouth. I mean, she was so child-like that it only seemed appropriate for me that she should have a lollipop sticking out of her mouth all the times.

But then a year passed and we made friends. Christmas was close – and I had no idea what to get her. Nothing I thought about was good enough. So, in the end, I bought her a big, big box of lollipops. I was a little bit scared that she wouldn't like it, but she got the joke.

That was the Christmas when my favorite photo with Mia was taken. It shows the two of us, sitting on a sofa, holding each other close with huge grins on our faces, a lollipop sticking out from both our mouths.

**A/N: We won! :) The candidate our class became the king of my school. It was a real soul-lifting experience :) **


	241. 239 Cowboy

**239. Cowboy**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 196<p>

Halloween was coming up, and so was the Guardians' annual Halloween costume party. I wanted to go – Dimitri, initially, didn't.

"Oh, come on, it would be great fun!" I tried to convince him one night. He just crossed his arms and tried to look very adamant about not giving in to me.

"We could dress so we would match…" I cooed, slowly crawling into his lap. "You could dress up as a cowboy, with your duster, and, and… those typical cowboy-boots and that hat with wide trim…" I said, caressing his shoulders, my hands sneaking under his shirt. "And I could dress up as a naughty, naughty cowgirl, with short jeans and a shirt tied under my breasts…" I all but pushed the aforementioned breast to his face. He cleared his throat.

That was the moment I knew I won.

"No… I mean, you should rather go as a can-can dancer," his hands found their way to my thighs, gripping them gently. "With a corset and big skirt and a garter…"

And with that, he turned us over, laying me on the couch, and a moment later he was kissing me senselessly.

Oh yeah, I won.

**A/N: Well, it turned out a lot naughtier than I planned it to be :P But do I regret this? No, not at all :P On the sadder note: I am way behind my schedule :( I hope I'll be able to finish the Zutara Secret Santa piece by Christmas, but the other one… :S**


	242. 240 Hope

**240. Hope**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 159<p>

It's been six weeks, and we still have no news of Rose.

We don't know where she is, what is she doing, who she is with – does she have company at all? -, has she found Dimitri?

These are the questions that are chasing each other in my mind all day, and sometimes all night long. There are nights when I can't even sleep at all. (A tiny, terrible part of me hopes that Rose feels my distress, and it makes her feel guilty and drives her home.)

Adrian says she is alright – he speaks with her sometimes in her dreams, but it's not enough for me. I want see her with my own eyes; feel her with my own arms. I want to make sure that she really is right.

But I can't – she is far beyond my reach.

So the only thing left for me is hope – hope that my best friend will return to me alive.


	243. 241 Children

**241. Children**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 133<p>

When they were young and first fell in love, Abe wanted have children, many of them; Janine didn't even consider having a baby.

But despite what they wanted, Rose came along - she was not planned at all. She gave birth to her nonetheless, and even loved her, from the very first moment. That was the time when they could have become a family, but they didn't. They decided that it would be better if Rose never knew her father and lived most of her life at the Academy. Back that time it seemed like a good idea.

But now, as she is almost forty and lies in his arms, her soul full of regrets _– she could have been a better mother_ – she thinks that maybe, just maybe, they could try it again.


	244. 242 Confession

**242. Confession**

POV: Emily Masntrano  
>Word count: 139<p>

Every time I look into my daughter's eyes I see him – I see Eric.

I know I should tell her who her real father is –was -, but I simply can't. I just can't turn her world upside down. I just can't simply tell her that she is technically royalty, with all its downsides.

No. Let her enjoy her simple life just for a little longer. She's fifteen, for God's sake! I might be selfish, but I want her to remain my little girl for a little longer.

And anyway, there's nobody anymore to crash this illusion she knows as her life. Eric is dead. Vasilissa knows nothing. Jill is safe.

Of course, I'll tell her one day, when she is ready. I'll tell her that she is a Dragomir.

One day, I'll make this confession. But not yet.

**A/N: Another first-timer character :)**


	245. 243 Teeth

**243. Teeth**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 228<p>

He is running, his heart is pounding in his ears and the air in his lungs is ice-cold. Fear is gripping his soul.

They are so close to the mouth of the cave, yet no matter how hard and fast he runs, he seems to be getting further from the opening, further from the others in front of him.

Then he suddenly appears – red eyes, white teeth. Pointed, menacing teeth, bared at him. It's a Strigoi, his mind tells him, but somehow he seems more devious, more beast-like than the ones he has encountered before.

A moment of blur, and they are fighting, rolling on the hard floor of the cave, he tries to hit the Strigoi, but the vampire is stronger, and pins him down, and sinks his teeth into his neck…

He wakes suddenly, his hair sticking to his forehead in a sweaty mess.

For a moment, he is disoriented, he doesn't know where he is, and the only thing he registers is his own hard breathing. Then he starts to notice the golden light of the sun pouring into the room from the gap between the curtains and Rose's peaceful, warm, sleeping body next him.

He lies back on his pillow, taking deep, calming breaths.

It's over, he keeps telling himself, it's over.

But then why does he have to relive it almost every night?

**A/N: Hm, I am quite proud of this one :)**


	246. 244 Swimming

**244. Swimming**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 142<p>

With the title of Queen came, along with all the responsibilities and downsides, some pros as well.

For example a nice villa in the Caribbean with a private beach. After all, even the queen had to cool off sometimes.

And Lissa did cool off – as soon as the crown was secure on her head, she declared that we – meaning every of our friends who took part in the whole getting Dimitri back from the dead and get Lissa crowned fiasco – needed a little break, and took us down to the beach.

It was the best week of my life.

I mean, do you know how soul lifting it is to go swimming into the sunset with the man of your dreams, then finding a small lagoon where no-one can find you, and… well, I think you know what I am talking about.

**A/N: Winter break has started – which means that my work morale has started its way down the slope… (Just for the record: I still haven't finished my piece for Zutara Secret Santa…)**


	247. 245 Honey

**245. Honey**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 178<p>

During the first few months after Lissa's coronation Dimitri and Christian bonded quite well. They weren't best friends, but they joked around quite a lot (which is a big thing in itself, considering we are talking about Dimitri) and found delight in the other's misery – which is almost as good as being best buds in the guys' book.

But let's get back to the aforementioned miseries, because most recently Dimitri's greatest glee has been that Lissa has started calling Christian honey. Okay, even I chuckled at it when I first heard it. Dimitri – I swear, he picked it up from me – never missed to comment on it or give Christian a pointed, mocking glare whenever Lissa addressed him as honey.

It was amusing to watch, I admit, but – and I can't believe I am saying this – soon I started feeling sorry for Christian. I mean, he had no material to get back on my man. So I decided to help him out a little.

I started calling Dimitri sweetie.

Just to let the guys play with equal chances.

**A/N: Subtle mocking hint to the upcoming Avatar: the Last Airbender comic, The Promise :P (Gosh, I love AtLA, but I won't read the comic, that's for sure… The preview was disturbing enough.)**


	248. 246 Holly

**246. Holly**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 245<p>

Lissa's pretty much off-key singing could be easily heard from the other end of the corridor.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la…"

I'd thought that I would find her alone in her dorm room (after all, no-one could bear Lissa's singing for too long and during Christmastime she liked to sing _very much_), but Christian was there as well, sitting on Lissa's bed with a quite pained expression on his face, while his Christmas-crazed girlfriend moved along the walls, putting on garlands.

"Follow me in merry measure, fa la la la la la…"

She only nodded at me when I entered her room; she wouldn't have stopped in the middle of her song just to greet me. I sat down next to Christian who looked at me pleadingly.

"Make her stop… please! You are her best friend after all…" He was an inch from covering his ears with his hands.

I let a devilish smile appear on my face.

"I have been listening to her singing for more than a decade now, so I have some immunity by now. If you plan on staying by her side, you'd better start developing one too." I even stuck out my tongue at him.

Just then Lissa started another song.

Christian let out a painful groan, and lying back on her bed, he put one of her pillows on his head. I just chuckled.

This was going to be a great Christmas.

**A/N: Merry Christmas to you all! :)**


	249. 247 Christmas

**247. Christmas**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 293<p>

The closer Christmastime was to us, the moodier Dimitri became.

At first I didn't get it. I mean, our lives were finally peaceful, productive, we were together, without shame, and the Court was simply beautiful and soul-lifting around this time. It looked liked those over-idealistic Christmas cards: everything was covered in snow (not ugly, grey mud, but real, untouched, blinding white snow), the building and the lampposts were adorned with garlands and ribbons and all that jazz, and no matter where you went, you heard Christmas music. It could have been nauseating, but somehow I found it enchanting.

But back to the story: so I didn't get why Dimitri had the blues, but then one night, when cuddled together, I nagged him until he confessed.

"It's just… I miss my family. It's not my first Christmas without them by any means, but somehow it's just getting harder each year." He sighed, then held me closer. "But at least I have you now." And with that, he placed a kiss on my head.

What he'd said kept me up all night thinking. I had never thought about it, which made me quite embarrassed. What kind of a girlfriend I was? And anyway, hadn't there been Christmases when I missed my mom? And how would I feel if I had to spend it apart from Lissa?

By the time dawn came, I had my plan in mind; the first thing I did in the morning was to speak with Lissa. I was sure that she could help me in accomplishing my plan.

She didn't disappoint me.

For the following few days I could hardly keep a goofy smile off my face, thinking about how Dimitri will look when he finds his family under the tree…


	250. 248 Mistletoe

**248. Mistletoe**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 174<p>

At first, he tried to act like he didn't notice it hanging over their heads. After all, it would have been the best if they hadn't acted on the tradition; it would have only caused more problems than they already had.

But then again – it was tradition. Who could have held him responsible for following a tradition? Who could find a fault in pecking his student's cheek under the mistletoe?

He looked down at her; she almost looked shy, her gaze turned downwards, which was completely uncharacteristic of her, but somehow only made her more beautiful. Her cheeks were red – either from the cold or a blush, he couldn't tell. People – students, mostly – started to mill around them, waiting for something to happen.

_ Well, let them have something to gossip about. _

He leaned in, taking her face in his hands, covering it, hiding it from the spectators, gently placing a kiss, no more than a peck, on her lips.

He could only hope that a day would come when they didn't have to hide.

**A/N: Hope it's clear who he and she are :)**


	251. 249 Children

**249. Children**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 249<p>

First of all let's get something straight: I, Rose Hathaway, am no babysitter material. And it's beyond my comprehension why Lissa thinks that I am.

So, to start from the beginning: Lissa had organized a big get together like thing for her supporters among the royals. And they came, bringing along their whole families, including the kids. Lissa also had a daycare planned for them, but, of course, the woman who would have been responsible for them, called in sick. So there Lissa was, with a dozen kids without supervision. But then she had a superb idea: why don't ask me to take care of them for a few short hours?

I love Lissa, I really do, but in that moment I just wanted strangle her.

Nonetheless, I went along with her plan. Well, I had babysat Dimitri's nephew and niece before, but A, Paul had been pretty much cooperative and B, Zoya had been still in demo-mode, meaning that I hadn't had much to do with her as long as she hadn't gotten hungry or cranky.

But these kids – they were neither cooperative nor in demo-mode. More like in destructive-mode. So, let's just say, that by the end of the afternoon I was nothing more than a nervous wreck (but at least no disaster had happened).

Let's get another thing straight: regardless of our history, should Lissa insist that I babysit any number of kids again, I quit.

**A/N: This prompt could have been easy; I mean, I could have written about how Rose and Dimitri can't have kids. But it would have been a cliché, and I try to avoid them :P So I chose the more difficult way :P**


	252. 250 Laugh

**250. Laugh**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 236<p>

I couldn't even remember when I heard my mother laugh for the last time. I couldn't even remember hearing her laugh, period. Which pretty much left me wondering how that would sound (if my mother was capable of laughing at all).

Well, as it turned out, I didn't have to wait for long to find it out.

Abe insisted that we should at least try to act as something remotely similar to a family – which, in his vocabulary, meant that we should dine together once in a while. Under "we", he meant himself, me, my mother and Dimitri. And he even organized the very first family dinner in his lavish apartment at Court.

It started out, well, okay-ish, if you don't consider the inevitable awkwardness among us. Even though Abe tried to start a conversation, my mother was stubbornly silent, Dimitri still couldn't loosen up in their presence, and all I could add to the discussion was some sarcasm.

But then one of the servants – because the old man had some, of course – tripped while serving the next course, throwing the whole bowl of sauce into Abe's lap. Even his (presumably expensive) silk tie became completely covered in white sauce.

Dead silence followed the accident.

But then my mother started guffawing, unsuccessfully trying to hide her face behind her napkin. Soon, we all followed her example.

Well, the night didn't turn out as bad after all.

**A/N: Ouch. I have just realized that I have already done Children once XD I just forgot to check it in my list, so I did it again yesterday XD**


	253. 251 Hurt

**251. Hurt**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 150<p>

Paul was a completely ordinary nine-year-old: he tried to avoid homework and household chores at all cost, was sometimes annoyed by his baby sister, loved playing, spending time with his dad, no matter how rare and far between his visits were, and yes, he cried sometimes when he fell while trying to climb a tree or sliding down the banister. And he was not ashamed by it.

Then his Uncle Dimka visited them; Paul could only distinctly remember him, as he was quite small when Uncle Dimka had been at home the last time, but the memories he had of him were pleasant ones.

He was a great uncle, with even greater stories; in Paul's eyes, he was a hero. He had fought Strigoi, many of them.

He had the scars to prove it.

And after seeing them, Paul promised himself not to cry over a bruised knee ever again.

**A/N: I can totally see Paul worshiping Dimitri like a superhero, can't you? :D **


	254. 252 Onion

**252. Onion**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 189<p>

I have never seen it coming: after taking home ec during his last semester, Christian discovered that he really had a knack for cooking, and decided that using his infinite free time (because who needed college anyway?) he would polish his knowledge about cooking.

I often got a taste of his masterpieces, since I usually happened to come over when he was working on something (okay: Lissa usually alerted me when he targeted the kitchen). I have to admit: he really knew what he was doing. I think if he had really set his mind on it, he could have become a chef, a fine one.

But he still had an arch enemy in the kitchen, who gave Lissa and me some very amusing moments: Onion (this way, with a capital.)

"Damn you…" Christian muttered, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, while copping the onions. "To the hell with you…"

Lissa and I only laughed into our palms, watching him from the table. Yes, we could have helped him, recalling some age old ways to fight Onion. But no; he was more amusing to watch this way.


	255. 253 Library

**253. Library**

POV: third person  
>Word count: 169<p>

The library of Rubysville never sees much activity, especially during summer, so being the librarian in the July heat is sure not the most interesting job in the world. Yet, interesting things still happen from time to time, and even some interesting people visit the library once in the blue moon, even during summer.

Like this couple who is currently lying on their stomachs near the travel section, the librarian notes. They seem to be nice enough people, greeting her politely, keeping quiet not to disturb the other (nonexistent) library goers.

She keeps a close eye on them, nonetheless, more because of her own amusement than because of being afraid that they would do something to violate her treasured rules. They speak in hushed voices, giggling, chuckling sometimes. They hardly touch each other, yet they are so transparently in love that it almost melts her heart.

And when they leave about an hour later the librarian wonders why there are so few other people like they in the world.

**A/N: Happy New Year! :)**


	256. 254 Lips

**254. Lips**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 118<p>

Really, I shouldn't be thinking about them.

Rose's lips, I mean.

I know that it's bad, that I am playing with fire when she is talking to me and all I can think about is how her lips would taste.

Sometimes I almost loose myself, when she is upset about something, when we differ on something and she talks back, and she is all witty and annoying and irresistible and unbearable and then I can hardly keep myself from leaning in and kissing her.

I know that I should forget her, abandon all feeling I might have for her. I know that it would be the sensible thing to do.

Then why am I unable to do it?

**A/N: Where are you, my faithful reviewers?**


	257. 255 Twilight

**255. Twilight**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 274<p>

"I have no idea how you girls have managed to drag me into this." Sydney voiced her opinion on my right, even nodding to her own statement.

"I wanted to say the very same thing," I added, stealing a meaningful glance to my left.

"Hey, don't look at me like that; it was Mia's idea, after all. And you didn't put up much of a resistance." Lissa said, holding her hands up in defense.

"Of course, blame everything on the smallest!" I heard Mia from the other side of Lissa. "And anyway, when the film is over, and it is great – because it will be great – it will be me who you will say thanks to." She straightened in her seat, even sticking her tongue at us.

I popped a handful of pop corn into my mouth.

"But don't forget, if it's a disaster, it will also be you whom we will beat up," I stuck my own tongue at her, just for good measure, what, somehow, caused all of us giggle.

"You are really going to eat all of that?" Mia pointed at my large bucket of pop corn.

"Sure," I shrugged at the same time as Lissa said:

"Of course she is going to; don't underestimate her." For the dramatic effect she even massaged the bridge of her nose.

"Do you want mine too?" Offered Sydney her own portion just as the lights in the movie went out.

Perfect, I thought. So the two hour long enjoyment/torture called Twilight had started.

But you know what? I don't care about the film – it was worth coming here, at least because of the company.

**A/N: Gosh, I can totally see all of them sitting in a neat row in the cinema, a bucket of pop corn in their laps, maybe even a pair of those ridiculous 3D glasses on their heads XD Maybe I can even imagine a full fanfic on this scenario… **


	258. 256 Calculator

**256. Calculator**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 196<p>

There was something, I don't know… magical about moving together with Rose. I know it sounds strange, but it really was magical for me.

And, to be honest, sometimes quite amusing.

I was going through one of her boxes filled with knick-knacks (it has always amazed me how many useless things women can collect. Frankly, it's like they have a competition going on to decide who can place more stuff on their shelves – and Rose is no exception). So, I was sorting out various figurines and only-God-knows-what, when I pulled something out of the box I didn't expect to see there at all.

"Rose," I called her. "Do you know you have a calculator amongst your stuff?"

"What?" Came her reply from the kitchen, and soon I heard her footsteps nearing. When she reached the door of the room and could get a good look at me, she gasped. A fine line of curses left her mouth. "My calculator! I have been looking for this since April!"

I love her, I really do. So I decided not to mention that most likely she was the one who put in into the box in the first place.

**A/N: Here you go, some DPOV :) I hope you liked it :P Anyway, tomorrow's update is unsure: I got a theatre ticket today to Budapest for tomorrow night – it's gonna be great, by the way :P Romeo and Juliet in a musical adaptation :P I simply love it :) I know the soundtrack by heart, have two versions of it on DVD, and I also have a karaoke DVD with some of the songs (it has songs from three of this theatre's musicals). Okay, I am off now :P – Orlissa, proud owner of several wooden cats, ceramic figurines, bottles of perfume, incense holder, postcards and plushies :P**


	259. 257 Mangoes

**257. Mangoes**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 153<p>

Rose's hair smelled like mangoes.

Dimitri didn't know why he had found this such a crucial detail, or why had he noticed it at all, but there was no denying there: her hair smelled like mangoes.

Anyway, it's not like he was so interested in his student that he paid extra attention to little things like the scent of her hair. The texture of it, yes, and the color, and how soft it must have been to the touch, but not the scent. And of course, he didn't notice these things because he was so obsessed with her that about his every second thought was about her, no, he was only this perceptive. And there was nothing wrong with being perceptive, especially in his profession, when it could save his life.

But at the same time he knew that it was completely pointless lying to himself.

_ (Suddenly he got an appetite for mangoes…)_


	260. 258 Harry Potter

**258. Harry Potter**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 271<p>

"It just doesn't make sense!" I exclaimed, flipping my book closed and throwing it on the coffee table. Dimitri lifted his gaze from the computer screen where he was working on something and looked at me questioningly.

"What doesn't make sense?" He asked.

"This book," I pointed at the volume. Somehow I got roped into reading the Harry Potter books (let's just say that it involved somebody playing with fire and a lost bet), and even though I had only read about a hundred pages from the first book so far, I had had already enough of.

Dimitri raised one of eyebrow at me.

"Well, I could name a few people who would disagree with you. A few million." His tone was light, teasing.

"Puh-please…" I said, leaning back on the sofa, resting my head on the armrest. "Nobody cared about the little guy for ten years, then suddenly this giant-hobo appears, tells him that he is a wizard, and now he is a hero! Blah…"

Dimitri just sighed.

"Just go on with it. It'll be worth it, I promise.' Then he added with a sly smile: "Not that you have a choice but read all seven books…"

"Thanks for reminding me, really, thank you,' I said, trying to sound offended, as I picked up the book again.

In the end, I did read the books – after all, I had to (let's not talk about what I would have had to do if I hadn't accomplished this task). But it's a completely different topic that I managed it in a mere moth…

(In the end, Dimitri was right – it really worth it.)

**A/N: Gosh, I am old XD I remember, I was in second grade when the first film came out :P I read the first book around that time, too. I think it took me three days back then. Then in 2007, Deathly Hallows was the first book ever I read in English :P Oh, before I forget: there's a new poll on my profile!**


	261. 259 Scarf

**259. Scarf**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 126<p>

Ibrahim Mazur had many scarves, it was no secret.

Most of them were rather expensive: hand-sewn ones, with fine embroidery on the rims, made of fine silks and velvets and cashmere. He had them in almost every imaginable color, just to match his suits, and he still kept collecting.

He valued them, yes, but when asked, he wouldn't have told anyone which one was his favorite.

Because it wasn't the one which was passed down from father to son in his family for generations, made of the finest fabric mankind has ever seen - as it would have been expected -, but a sloppily knit, little bit worn, simple grey one. Really, it wasn't that special – yet it was.

Only because it was made by _her_.


	262. 260 Suntan Lotion

**260. Suntan Lotion**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 221<p>

After the first joy of seeing each other whole, living again, awkwardness set in.

They spent four, almost five years apart, one of them a Strigoi to escape her burden, the other trying to find her, then giving up, the only thing giving him strength is her memory and the hope that one day her soul will be freed.

Then it was suddenly over; she was back.

But what do you say to your lover who you hadn't seen in years?

_ I spent every waking moment thinking about you, dreaming about killing you._

_ I didn't think about you, but I killed dozens._

Nothing seemed to fit, but somehow, anyhow, the ice wall separating them had to be broken.

And so, one day found Mikhail standing in front of Sonya's door, butterflies in his stomach like he was sixteen again, taking his crush to the movies. When she opened the door, he awkwardly handed her a bottle of suntan lotion.

"I thought… well, I thought that since you didn't need one in the last few years, you must be short of it." He shrugged, like it was nothing, like it wasn't completely absurd.

She took it from him, her big, surprised eyes fixed on him.

And then she laughed, laughed wholeheartedly, like she had never laughed before.

And the ice was broken

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I hope it's worth the wait :) I have to admit it was a really difficult prompt for me, but in the end I have to say it turned out to be one of my favorites :)**


	263. 261 Snow

**261. Snow**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 221<p>

"If it continues like this, we can get stuck here for days. A week or two, even." Dimitri observed standing at the window, a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. I believed him; after all, he was the one who grew up here. "Even if the roads in the town are passable, it will take some time until they clear up the highways to the bigger cities."

Thanks to Lissa's courtesy we could spend the holiday season with Dimitri's family in Siberia. On the third day of our stay the snow started falling, seemingly without end. In the beginning, I found it quite great: we had huge snowball fights with Viktoria and Paul in the backyard, and took Zoya and Anatoly – Sonya's son - to the store on a sleigh. Even clearing the front yard of snow seemed fun, especially since Dimitri claimed that it was men's job, and took the grumpy Paul out to help him.

End even though I was starting to get tired of the constant snowfall, I wasn't that bothered by the thought of staying here a little longer at all.

I sneaked behind him and encircled his waist with my arms.

"And you are upset about this because…?" I teased.

The only answer I got was a soft smile and a kiss on my lips.


	264. 262 Roller Coaster

**262. Roller Coaster**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 225<p>

"What are you doing?" I asked Liss, who was sitting by her laptop, looking completely lost. She only groaned in response, placing her forehead on the edge of the table.

"I am getting started on my autobiography – I mean, I think, since I am the queen now, people would be interested in my life, so... But I just simply… can't."

"You can't… what?" I said, squatting beside her.

"Get started. I don't know what to write." She raised her head and looked at me. I knew what she was going to ask before she uttered the first syllable. "How would you start an autobiography?"

"Yours?"

"Yours, mine, I don't care. Just give me a push to the right direction."

I let myself fall backwards, my back hitting the drawers of Lissa's desk. Really, how would I start?

"Well, one thing is sure: our lives, so far, were much like a roller coaster – once up, once down. Ever since we were kids. Don't you think?" I looked at her, just in time to see a smile broke out on her face. The next moment she started typing like a maniac.

The first paragraph of her autobiography still makes me laugh now, so many years later. Because before all the amazing things she did, the first thing she writes about is a roller coaster.

Our roller coaster.

**A/N: Okay, a little check-in about what I am reading now :) (Sorry, I just have to get it out of my system. Feel free to skip this) So, I just finished Princess of the Midnight Ball on Saturday. It was a nice enough book, I really liked it, but I was just simply unable to learn the names of the characters (twelve princesses all named after flowers…). And I have only about thirty pages of Graceling left – well, I didn't enjoy this book that much. The heroine unnerves me (I mean, what's the point in having a female protagonist who has no feminine streaks at all?), the translation is crappy (I am reading it in Hungarian), it has some pretty boring parts, and the last twist with the male lead is simply out of place. No, I don't really like it, but as soon as I have finished it, I can move onto Clockwork Prince :) I've already read the prologue and the first chapter, and again, it seems fabulous :) Cassandra Clare is one of my favorite writers (side-by-side with Richelle Mead), and she has never failed to amaze me so far :) Any suggestions what should I read after I finished them? :)**


	265. 263 Fairies

**263. Fairies**

POV: Rose  
>word count: 241<p>

There was one time when I was falsely accused of doing something (okay, apart from that whole killed-the-queen fiasco).

It happened in the very beginning of my sophomore year, and by then I had already laid the foundation of my reputation of a troublemaker. So it was no wonder that when his classroom was vandalized, I was on the very top of Stan's list of potential perpetrators. And so before I knew it, I was dragged by my collar to the classroom, to face the damage I had – allegedly – caused. I wasn't even given a chance to ask what I had done that time.

When we reached the site of the crime and Stan opened the door, I did the only reasonable thing my fifteen-year-old mind was capable of coming up with: I laughed like an idiot.

Somebody must have broken into the secret stash of the art club, because the desks, the walls, and technically everything were covered in paint and glitter, with small glass beads and flitters littering the floor, and every horizontal surface in overall.

"Well, can you explain me what happened here?" Stan turned to me, his face a dangerous shade of red. I just kept on laughing.

"Well, some fairies must have come here last night and had an orgy." I told him, finding the situation quite amusing – but, as it turned out, I was the only one who got the joke.

And a week's worth detention.

**A/N: Big-big thank you for those four people – ForeverILive, Hollywood17, JLEE1997 and ReBelikova - who read my über-long A/N yesterday and replied to it :) Thank you for the recommendations! :)**


	266. 264 Wasabi

**264. Wasabi**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 174<p>

Lissa is really proud of Christian because of his cooking, she really is. After all, how many girls can say that their boyfriend prepares them a dinner every week?

And she likes his cooking as well. It is varied and healthy and, first and foremost, delicious. Her favorites are maybe his special roasted beef (the kind for what he wouldn't tell her what kind of spices he uses), and his Caesar Salad. Oh, and his brownies. Now, they are simply heavenly. Chocolate-y goodness.

And even though Christian rarely makes mistakes in his cooking and, in overall, everything he makes is great, Lissa still has her limits.

For example, there is no way she will place even a spoonful of this stuff (chicken liver with wasabi sauce, with steamed sea weed as side dish á la Christian) into her mouth. No way.

(Although she knows that her resistance will break the very moment when Christian gets back to the dining room, looks into her eyes, and asks her what she thinks about his newest creation.)

**A/N: I might be putting too much stress on it, but, in my mind, Chef Christian as absolutely hilarious and unbearably adorable at the same time :D And what a great joke material…**


	267. 265 Ache

**265. Ache**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 217<p>

"I am dying," I stated simply, lying on my stomach on our bed, my left hand hanging limply off the side of the bed. I heard a deep chuckle from the other side of the bed; apparently, Dimitri found my misery quite amusing.

After a little bit more than a month of semi-forced leave because of my injury caused by Tasha's gun, I had just started training again the day before. And even though while I had run and sparred with Dimitri everything seemed peachy, now I felt every single muscle in my body protest against the strain I had put on them. They simply ached.

"I am sure that your state of health is not that bad as you make it seem," Dimitri teased, leaning closer to me, his breath hot on my neck.

"What are you, a doctor now?" I tried to turn and look at him, but the muscles in my neck wouldn't have cooperated, so the movement turned into a painful moan.

"No, but I am sure I can cure your pains…" His voice dropped an octave as his lips find my shoulder, pushing the strap of my tank top away.

Alright, I give it to him: he really made my pain go away.

After all, he has magical hands. And lips. And…

**A/N: He-he, I am getting a little bit naughty :P I bought three new books today, and I can't wait to read them :) (A Sherlock Holmes short story collection, Red Riding Hood and The Heretic Queen). Meantime, I'm reading Clockwork Prince, and I am loving it so far :) The witty comebacks are amazing, and I love the absurdity of Will's character. And all those secrets…**


	268. 266 Heartbeat

**266. Heartbeat**

POV: third person  
>Word count: 135<p>

It's been a long time, but sometimes still wakes up terrified, his breath ragged, and the only thing he can do is to turn and place his head over the chest of the woman lying next to him, just to hear her heartbeat.

_Thud-thud. thud-thud._

She's alive. She is well.

She is his.

Only after he convinced himself that she is safe, he puts his hand over his own heart. It beats, too.

_Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

He is alive. He is well.

He is _himself_.

And only then, his head on her chest, his hand on his own chest, he realizes that their hearts beat at the same time, keeping a perfect rhythm.

They might not be soul mates; but they are as close to that as a mortal can be.

And it's enough for him.

**A/N: All right… First of all, big-big thank you to asianepicfail, who has sent me no less than 117 prompts :D Actually, I meant to end this series when it becomes a year old, and I start my mature examinations, but it seems like it's not happening :) (but this doesn't mean that I wont take a break around the beginning of May, because I might). Secondly, it's my ribbon ceremony tomorrow – it's kind of the Hungarian counterpart of prom – and I am getting a little bit nervous. But my cocktail dress for the evening is done, and it's beautiful. It's a royal blue qipao, and I've had it done by a seamstress. :) So, what I meant to tell is that because of this, I might not update tomorrow. But I promise it make it up to you!  
>Oh, and I hope it's clear who this frabble is about :)<strong>


	269. 267 Diamonds

**267. Diamonds**

POV: Third person  
>Word count:<p>

At Court, in the shopping district, there's a small jeweler's shop; Dimitri passes it two, sometimes three, times a week.

He's not one for window-shopping, but he usually stops for a moment or two in front of it, just to take a look at the displayed jewels. He's particularly interested in rings, in these small, delicate silver and gold bands, with tiny, sparking stones on them, meant to be worn on long, elegant fingers.

Engagement rings.

Sometimes he stays for longer, when there's a new one in the window, a new one, what especially triggers his interest. They are usually simple ones, with diamonds on them; ones he could imagine on Rose's finger.

He stands there, and calculates. How long would it take to save enough money to buy it? Surely not that long. Would they be ready for this? He most definitely; Rose – he's not sure. What would she say? He can't even imagine; they have never talked about it. Are they even meant to be married? How could he know?

Yet, every time he passes the shop, he stands there for a while, observing the rings on display.

_ One day…_

**A/N: I have quite mixed feeling about yesterday's ribbon ceremony; I mean, the ceremony itself and our little show afterwards went great, and my dress, this shockingly unusual, lovely dress, was a complete success (my English teacher even said that she thought that mine was the best dress that evening :)). But afterwards, we were promised a little ball; there was even a beautiful opening dance, a waltz, with girls in white dresses and boys in tuxedos, but after that they put in some horrid music, you can't even dance to. Once or twice the DJ put on some 'danceable' music, and then I danced (and somebody stepped on the foot with heels…), but other than that, the party was a total lackluster.**

**Wanna see some pics of the ceremony itself (the ribbon-pinning) and my dress? (Gosh, I am such an egoist… :P)**


	270. 268 Dinosaurs

**268. Dinosaurs**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 168<p>

Paul thought that their new guest was pretty, which, by itself, is quite a big thing, since usually he didn't find girls pretty in general. No, for him, girls were still annoying. But this girl, Rose, was nice, and she had a beautiful smile, even though she didn't smile often.

All he knew about her that she was his Uncle Dimka's friend. He could hardly remember Uncle Dimka, but he knew that he was great, so his friends must be great, too. And so, soon, he formed a cute little crush on her.

This left only one question to answer: how to act on it?

Well, he was not shy, and anyway, Grandma always told him to be brave like his uncle, so he decided to really be brave like Uncle Dimka. So, the next morning he stood in front of Rose, and putting all his confidence together, he said:

"Would you like to play with my dinos with me?"

At ten, it's the best pick-up line ever.

**A/N: I just want to let you know that you shouldn't read my stories. Yeah, because I am really mean. Yep. XD – sorry, I just had to XD Okay, so: the other day, a read a horrible story in the Avatar: the Last Airbender section (have you heard about that fames Harry Potter fic titled My Immortal? Now, imagine this in Avatar). Okay, 'read' is a little bit of exaggeration: I could only finish the two first paragraphs. To top things, the author is the stupidest, most self-absorbed and obnoxious writer I've had the misfortune to meet on this site. I wrote a review to her story, not a flame, but a one telling her what the problems with her story was. Now, she wrote an answer-review to this story, to the first chapter. Her review is the next: "ok this author is REALLY MEAN =( U shouldnt read this stroy" So, yeah, you shouldn't read my works, you know XD Anyway, the author is firebendingurl97, and her story is titled "the azula who stole crismas". I would really like if you checked out her story and profile, and read the review I wrote to her, so you can all decided themselves how mean I am and what a talented writer she is :P (okay, it really is mean, but hey, she started it :P)**

**Else: I put up a picture of my ribbon ceremony dress both to my Facebook page and Deviantart account (www . orlissa . deviantart . com) :)**


	271. 269 Poopmachine

**269. Poop-machine**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 223<p>

"What have I done to deserve this?" I asked, mostly from myself, as I set Lissa's squirming, bawling son on the changing table. Dimitri chuckled behind me.

"You have become the best friend of Lissa, that's what you did."

"But, urgh…" I growled, as I tried to wriggle the baby out of his onesie. "She's the queen, can't she get a nanny for a night? Damn…" I added, as the smell of the contents of his nappy reached my nose.

Lissa and Christian decided to have a night off, asking me, of all people, to take care of their little prince while they were out. And no matter how I tried to convince her that it was a bad idea, she wouldn't have changed her mind.

So I got stuck with this poop-machine.

Dimitri chuckled again, clearly amused by my distress. I just couldn't get the dirty nappy off of the baby.

"Here. Let me," he said finally, pushing me away gently. In a blink of an eye he had the nappy changed and the little guy dressed again. Damn him.

"How…?"

"I had my fair share of practicing it on Paul when he was a baby," He shrugged.

I frowned at him.

"Why do you have to be so good at everything?"

Both males in the room grinned at me in unison.

**A/N: For once I didn't want to visit their must-be-there pain about not being able to have kids together. I hope it's okay. Anyway, when was the last time I wrote about Adrian?**


	272. 270 Addiction

**270. Addiction**

POV: third person  
>Word count: 192<p>

Adrian Ivashkov is an addict, there is no denying here. Even he admits it. The real question is: what is he addicted to?

The most obvious answer would be cigarette. Yes, in a way he is addicted to the feeling of the nicotine and the smoke making him light-headed and calm, soothing his nerves. When he smokes, even the weight of the tar settling in his lungs seems magnificent.

Then there is, of course, alcohol. The liquor making him dizzy, making the room turn and swirl, making him think he is funnier than he actually is. The bitter-sweet taste left on his tongue makes him forget, forget the world around him, the madness threatening to swallow him.

Yes, they are addictions. Vices. Things that will most likely completely destroy him, then kill him young. Or at least this is what he is always told. But he knows: if he wanted to, he could stop any day, completely, for ever.

But there is one more thing he is addicted to, one thing he cannot give up, one thing he must get his fix of everyday…

Brown eyes, dark hair, slim waist, full lips…

**A/N: I told you it's been a long time since I wrote about Adrian :P Anyway: I finished Clockwork Prince today. It was great, but damn, now how am I supposed to wait until September for the next book to come out? :D This one raised so many questions, and answered only half of them. Also, I can't decide between the two boys. I am usually pretty much decided on which ship I support in a fandom, but now I am lost (but I am slightly leaning towards Jem). If you would like to talk about it, give me a PM :)**


	273. 271 Airplanes

**271. Airplanes**

POV: Abe  
>Word count: 176<p>

From Novosibirsk to Moscow, then to Amsterdam, then to Seattle, and then, finally, to Missouri. About thirty hours altogether.

Flights like this make me want to buy a private jet. Even though it's not me who is flying to the other side of the planet now.

I see her slight frame, covered by that too large coat, disappear into the crowd. I know that she can take care of herself; she is strong and smart. But I can't help worrying about her – is this what it feels like to be a parent? Always worrying that your child is not cold, hungry, scared and sad? It's a heavy burden to bear, but somehow, I don't mind.

Thirty hours; four changes of planes. What if something happens to her? What if she gets lost?

No, I can't think like this. She's strong and she's an adult – almost. She'll be alright; she's been trough so much more than a flight home. But if only I could send somebody to accompany her…

I sigh.

At least she will be warm.


	274. 272 Baby Steps

**272. Baby Steps**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 235<p>

One day, not long after Lissa's coronation, I found Dimitri sitting on our bed, holding a framed picture – his family's, I realized – in his hands, looking so miserable I hadn't seen him in such a long time. I sat next to him, folding my hands under my breasts, looking sideways at him, waiting for him to say something. I knew I shouldn't pressure him; he would speak when he was ready.

"I doubt my family even knows that I am alive," his voice was tainted some kind of untouchable misery, what was so unlike of him. "They must think that you have killed me for good." He put the picture down and hid his face in his hands with a heavy sight.

I took a moment before speaking.

"Well, we could always ask for a week or two off," I said, reaching out for his shoulder. "Go to Russia. See your family."

I expected a relieved smile; but all I got was an even more troubled expression on his face.

"You… you don't understand this. I just can't march up to them, saying…" he stopped for a moment, then finished the sentence in Russian.

"Well, then why don't you start with something less grand?" I asked him, fishing out my cell from my pocket and handing it to him. "You know, baby steps."

Finally, he smiled; he took the phone from me and started dialing.

**A/N: Truth of the day: if you deliberately want to break a plate, it just simply won't crack :D**


	275. 273 Backstage

**273. Backstage**

POV: third person  
>Word count: 147<p>

They can call her names, curse at her, but she doesn't care – she won't care. Because in the end, everything she does, she does for them, even if they can't see it now.

The age law is wrong, she knows that; but she still has to have it accepted – if she won't, something worse will happen to the dhampirs soon. To the dhampirs, who are just as her people as the Moroi are.

So, for now, she will endure all the talks, all the hate, all the rage, because she knows that in their eyes, she deserves it. But one day they will thank you this. One day, when the dhampirs will have a say in the decisions, when they will be equal. When they will be free.

Because so much is going on backstage. Now, she is waiting for only one thing: the curtain to open…

**A/N: I had a very bad day – bad news about my studies, an almost-mental breakdown, some crying… But I am better now.  
>Special thanks to vamp4ever8 – it's so sweet of you guys when you compare me to Richelle Mead, even though I am nowhere near to her excellence :) Anyway, about your request: I'll see if I can put together a Sydrian drabble :)<strong>


	276. 274 Chicken Wings

**274. Chicken Wings**

POV: Adrian  
>Word count: 190<p>

"Let me get something straight: the only reason I am with you right now is that Rose ditched me and I have no desire getting lost amongst all those vampires around here, not because I like you the slightest"

I swear, this girl, this alchemist – Sydney, I remind myself - is going to be a death of me – even though it's going to be a rather pleasurable death.

"Well, you obviously like me enough to have let me buy you dinner," I say with a crocked smile, pointing at the chicken wing she is munching on. Man, this girl eats less than a bird.

I wait for the witty comeback, but it never comes; she only tilts her head haughtily, signaling – I think - that my point is invalid. In the last few months I got so used to Rose's sarcasm that its lack is quite strange now – but somehow oddly comforting.

"Don't think that highly of yourself," she says in the end, the corners of her mouth threatening to move upwards. She pushes her plate away; she has hardly eaten anything.

God, I would love to kiss her now.

**A/N: Here's your Sydrian drabble :) I hope it serves its purpose :)**


	277. 275 Closure

**275. Closure**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 193<p>

He knows he needs it – he needs to somehow… leave this behind him. But this doesn't mean that it's easy.

"Why?" He's prepared himself for this, putting a whole list of questions together in his head, questions he means to ask her, but when he is there this is the only syllable leaving his mouth. _Why?_

When he looks at her the bars seem to cut her into slices; she looks so much thinner than she really is – than she used to be – and so helpless.

He can't feel sorry for her.

She looks up; her self-confidence – arrogance, really – is unscarred.

"You wouldn't understand. Somebody had to do it. I had to do it." Her voice is clear and lacks guilt.

"And Rose?"

She shrugs.

"She was a… convenient choice. And she loved the wrong man." She uses past tense – he notices this. "Did she die?" Still, no remorse. Some time, when he wasn't looking, she has become a maniac.

"No." _Not yet_. "That's all you have to say?" She turns her head down. Yes, apparently, it is all. He won't let it hurt him. "Well, then goodbye, Aunt Tasha."

And he leaves.

**A/N: I'm quite like this one :) I have always been amongst those who were pro-Tasha – poor girl can't be held responsible for loving Dimitri. I was always a little upset when I read a fic where she was portrayed as a raging bitch. But the ending of Last Sacrifice… well, it was quite a shock for me :D And I don't think that she would have done it if she was completely sane. **


	278. 276 Igloo

**276. Igloo**

**A/N: Continuation of 261 Snow :)  
><strong>POV: Rose  
>Word count: 291<p>

The snow continued to fall for three more days, technically without stop. Then, on the fourth day, it just stopped, abruptly, just like that. But this doesn't mean that the waist-high snow in Baia disappeared.

We weren't really bothered by it; there was enough food in the house for at least a week – knowing Olena, rather for two weeks -, and the snow block on the roads only meant that our leave got extended by a few days. It was peaceful, I was with my family - because that's what the Belikovs had become for me -, I felt loved.

But let's get back to the snow.

One morning Paul came up with a 'brilliant' – he called it brilliant, not us – idea: why don't we build an igloo in the back yard? After all, we had enough snow, and more than enough time, he reasoned.

What can a girl do when she is snow-blocked? I agreed on the idea, pulling as many people from the household with me as I could – which meant Dimitri, Karolina and Viktoria.

The five of us spent the better part of the day building the small structure; it was hard work, since the air was too cold for the snow to really stuck, but in the end we managed to put it together.

It wasn't the best igloo I have ever seen, that's for sure. It was small, only high enough for the toddler Zoya to stand up inside, the walls were uneven, thing and weak, the opening crooked. I squinted at it.

"Well, it's small, it's ugly, but at least it's ours," I joked.

"Moral of the story: Guardians don't make good architects," Viktoria added.

Then, in the exact moment she finished, the igloo collapsed.

**A/N: Seeing the prompt, I just had to continue the idea of Snow :D Anyway, re-reading the aforementioned drabble, I realized that I named Szonya's son after the Russian guy I met in London – we lived at the same host family – and on whom I had a crush on :P**


	279. 277 For the First Time

**277. For the First Time**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 250<p>

Tasha hides it well, but she just can't help hating that girl.

Everything was going well in her life: she loved her job, had a place to call her own, she was independent, her nephew was growing up. And, at last, it seemed like she found her man.

She had known Dimitri for years, and had always held a soft spot for him in her heart. She hadn't always been in love with him; had had a crush on him, right, but the love – the real one, the one making heart shiver – only started recently.

They got on well, understood each other. He was perfect, perfect for her – it didn't matter that he was younger than her -, and she even told him so. She also told him that she would bear his children. After all, who cared if her children were dhampirs? Not her, that's for sure.

She was sure that he wouldn't say no to her offer, even if he didn't love her the way she loved him. He would be a fool to say no.

But then here he comes, telling her that he can't leave with her, can't be with her. Because he loves another, no matter how crazy it is. He pours his soul out to her, telling her everything. He loves Rose, no other, he can't help it. He will either be with Rose, or no-one.

She listens to him, nodding, her mouth a firm line.

For the first time, she wants to kill.

**A/N: For the first time, I feel… wicked :P Big hugs and kisses to those who can tell where this quote is from :P**


	280. 278 Storm

**278. Storm**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 280<p>

What should one do when a storm is raging outside, electricity is out, it's all dark and scary, but you have some great friends and a few candles nearby?

Have a séance, of course.

Now, don't look at me like that. It wasn't my idea – honestly, I don't remember whose idea it was, but it sure wasn't mine.

So the point is that while it was raining and thundering outside, we – by this, I mean Lissa, Adrian, Christian, Eddie and myself – sat cross-legged on the floor in Adrian's suite at the Academy in a circle, holding each other's hands, surrounded by candles and a bottle or two of wine. Somehow we agreed upon trying to call forth the ghost of Saint Vladimir – now, I remember clearly that it was Adrian's idea.

For a very, very long time, nothing happened. Not even a breeze. I was starting to get enough and Christian was starting to grumble.

Then, suddenly, one of the bottles fell over, tumbling off the table, meeting the floor with a loud crash. I cringed; Lissa let out a small scream. Adrian looked almost smug.

"Well, it does seem like the old Vlad is amongst us!" He said.

Lissa looked at her watch a little bit too much enthusiasm.

"Oh, look, it's curfew already!" She all but leapt up. "We should go. Bye, Adrian!" And she grabbed Christian's arm, pulling him up as well, already halfway out of the room. Eddie wasn't that far behind them. I was the last to remain in the room.

"That was a rather bad joke, you know that, right?" I turned to Adrian. He merely shrugged.

"I know. But it so worth it."

**A/N: I was halfway done with this drabble when realized how awkward would it be if it was set after Rose came back from Russia :S So, let's just say it takes place somewhere between Frostbite and Shadow Kiss :P**


	281. 279 Impossible

**279. Impossible**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 256<p>

Impossible.

It's the world which has haunted Mikhail so many times in his life. It's the world which has always made him push harder, fight harder. Made him the person he is today.

_It's impossible that he could become a Guardian_ – his teachers said when he was a child. He was weak, often sick. Nobody thought that he would withstand the hardships of the Guardian training. But he did – he didn't graduate with flying colors, but he did graduate.

_It's impossible that he will ever kill a Strigoi_ – his colleagues said when he first started working. He was shy, introverted, and everybody interpreted this cowardice and weakness. Three months after his graduation he killed his first Strigoi, and came out of the battle without a scratch.

_It's impossible that she, a moroi, would love me, a dhampir, the way I want her to love me_ – he told himself when he fell in love with Sonya. But she loved him, loved him better than her own life.

_It's impossible that I could kill her_ – he told himself when she was turned. I knew he would be unable to drive a stake through her heart. But he went after her nonetheless.

He came back empty-handed.

_It's impossible that I could see her again_ – he kept telling himself while he was working all day long with the documents in the basement. It's impossible.

But then she is standing in front of him, breathing, her heart beating, her face flushing. And there's only one thing in his mind.

_It's impossible. _


	282. 280 Alliance

**280. Alliance**

POV: Sydney  
>Word count: 175<p>

I have to make something very clear: I am not making friends with a vampire. Not even with a half-vampire.

Okay, so I talk with her. It's no big deal; I mean, we were closed up together on a train for days. Of course we made a little small talk. It was impossible not to. And it's only natural to continue this… fraternizing now, since we are still stuck together.

And what if I felt sorry for her? After all, she did loose her boyfriend. Lover. Whatever. And okay, I do feel a little bit ashamed that I thought that she was trying to become a blood whore.

And alright, I do start to enjoy spending time with her. I mean, when she is in her element, she is fun to be around. And she has feelings. True, deep, human feelings. Thinking about it, she is disturbingly human-like.

But no, we are not friends. Nor will we ever be.

Allies, yes. But friends? No. Not in a lifetime.

_ (Yes, just keep lying to yourself, Sydney…)_


	283. 281 Please?

**281. Please?**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 135<p>

Dear Mom,  
>I hope it's okay if I call you mom.<p>

So, Christmas is close, and I know that around this time the other children write to Santa Clause, but I am… well, I am not. I am writing to you.

And I know that I should write a list about things I want, but I don't really want anything for Christmas this year. I mean, nothing important. The only thing I want, the only thing I would like to get is… I mean, could you visit me?

I know you're busy and that your work is really, really important, but I miss you. And dad, too. I mean… I would like to know him.

So I am not asking for anything this year. Only you. Could you come, please? Please?

I love you

Rose

**A/N: I imagine that before Rose went all hating Janine, she had a phase – let's say around up until she was about ten – when she really, really missed her, and couldn't wait until she visited. Little Rose must have been really cute :)**


	284. 282 Hell on Earth

**282. Hell on Earth**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 275<p>

Jason, owner of a small pub not far front the Moroi Court – not that he knows about that -, is quite used to seeing men at their worst. And he is also pretty good at guessing what the reason behind their blues is.

For example, let's just take this guy sitting at the bar. Young, tall, lean, pale, with tousled brown hair and piercing green eyes, dressed in designer clothes. Quite handsome lad if someone asks Jason, and he is obviously rich, too. It's not hard to guess what his problem is.

"Woman?" it's all Jason asks when he pours him another glass of whisky. The young man only snorts, and drinks the whisky in one big gulp. Jason nods; he understands. "Well, then just drink. You might regret it tomorrow, bub, but believe me, it's the best you can do right now." He pours again, then turns away to serve his other patrons.

"I have always known that roses have thorns," speaks the guy suddenly, not to someone in particular, just to get it out of his system. Jason looks at him; he doesn't seem that drunk, but apparently, considering his blabbering, he is, "but I didn't care. I should have, oh yeah, I should have. But I only see it now, now that she has stung me." He snorts again. "Rose of Hell, on the face of Earth."

Jason laughs despite of himself.

"Well, that's for sure bub. This place," he gestures at bar, meaning not just his pub, but the whole damn world, "is Hell on Earth." he leans closer, smirking, pouring him another glass. "But at least the devils are attractive."


	285. 283 Plaster

**283. Plaster**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 376<p>

"There's a crack on the ceiling," I observed one evening. Dimitri was still in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, and since I didn't have anything better to do, I just lay there, on my back, under the covers, staring at the ceiling – that's how I noticed the crack.

When Dimitri joined me a few minutes later, he stole a quick glance at the ceiling, nodded, acknowledging that there really was a crack, and then he moved, maneuvering his body above mine, proceeding to kiss me, just to prove his point: there are more important things than a crack on the ceiling. I give it to him: I really forgot about it in an instant.

The only problem is: the crack refused to disappear. Not, it got a little bit bigger each day. Not that I really had the time or the energy to think about it, and even when I did think about it for a moment or two, Dimitri was always near to make mind wonder about more important things. For example about his lips. Or hands. Or abs. Or… I think you get my point.

So, everything was peachy: we had a crack on the ceiling, but it didn't bother us, so we didn't bother it in return. But then one night it changed.

Okay, so, sometimes we are a little rough. I mean in the 'rock-the-bed'-sense of rough. And on that particular night, we were maybe a little rougher than usual. I remember the sight of Dimitri above me and the steady rhythm of the bedpost hitting the wall behind me, when suddenly-

Something fell from above, Dimitri let out a yell – more like in surprise than in pain -, and the next thing I knew that we were covered in white dust and pieces of plaster.

The crack had given in at last.

When the first shock faded, I couldn't help but laugh. Dimitri looked like he had gone grey in a few seconds, with a dumbfounded expression on his face. I assume that I didn't look any better.

"Well, now we have a hole in the ceiling," I observed, trying to stifle my laugh, looking upwards. "But on the brighter side, we don't have a crack on the ceiling anymore."

**A/N: Another kind of drabble I haven't written in a while: naughty Rose/Dimitri :P I hope you've liked it :) (Maybe I should change the rating from T to M, don't you think?) Anyway, I finally got my Zutara Secret Santa piece finished! :D …Well, almost. I still have to proofread it, but other than that, it's done :)**


	286. 284 Steak and Veggies

**284. Steak and Veggies with Mushroom Sauce  
><strong>POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 221<p>

Tonight everything had to be perfect.

Christian planned everything in advance: it was really easy to convince Rose to take Lissa out today; take her shopping, to the spa, he didn't care as long he could be alone for a few hours.

He cooked all afternoon, trying things that sounded delicious, but he had never done before: hors d'oeuvres with exotic ingredients; steak with special spicing; mushroom sauce; a delicious cake with more chocolate inside it than the whole Court consumes in a year. He had also talked with the staff of the royal quarters, asking them not to disturb him and Lissa tonight. He had half a mind to ask Dimitri to arrange extra Guardians to be put under their windows for tonight, just to make sure that really no-one would bother them, but in the end he aborted the idea. Then he set up the table – hell, he'd even bought a book with ideas for romantic dinners like this. Red brocade tablecloths, white china, candles… He had even put on a dressing shirt!

So everything was done and perfect, ready for Lissa's arrival. Even that little box in his pocket.

There was nothing to worry about.

(And if in the end he chickened out, he would still have a great night with Lissa, he tried to reason with himself.)

**A/N: Finally, in the very last moment, I finished my piece for Zutara Secret Santa! :) Now you can find it under the title of Not Only in Fairy Tales :) Coming projects: edited verson of one of my oldest English fanfics, a RENT piece titled Becoming Angel; a romantic-humorous VA one-shot I wanted to write before Christmas; another one-shot with my Zutara steambabies (quasi-prequel to my other story Kids Will Be Kids), another Zutara one-shot, because kittenxxkisses has all but dared me to write it :P Also, new poll on my profile!**


	287. 285 Temptation at its Finest

**285. Temptation at its Finest**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word count: 366<p>

I don't usually do things like this, but now I have to get it out of my system.

I walk up between the pews to the altar, get down to my knees in front of it, turn my head to the sky and start speaking.

"God, I don't know what kind of plans you have for me. I don't know whether you are punishing or rewarding me. Tell me – is she an angel or a devil? She is… she is everything I could ever ask for, and yet she is out of my reach. She is so young, so beautiful… I love her, I really do, but it pains me every day, seeing her and knowing that that she could never be mine. If I did act on my feelings… it could only lead to destruction. What do you want me to do? Do you want me to continue suffering in silence, or do something and destroy everything we have?"

So, here it is. I said it out loud. A relieved sigh leaves my mouth. It's already easier to breath.

As I stand up, wanting to leave something happens, something I haven't expected at all: I get an answer.

"First of all, maybe you shouldn't see the situation in black and white – there's more to it, you know. And then, if I were you, I would tell this young lady how I feel, because pretty young things aren't on the market for too long."

I turn, and find myself face to face with Father Andrew.

"Father, I…" I start, not really knowing what to say. He only smiles, putting his hand on my shoulder. I know from his eyes that he understands.

"There's nothing to say, son," the corners of his mouth pull a little bit higher. "At least not to me. Now, go. I am sure you have better things to do right now than standing in an empty church. And if you want to talk about it… you know where to find me." He pats my shoulder and leaves.

I smile to myself – who knew that help would come from such an unexpected source?

…Well, maybe next time I should check the church first.

**A/N: Well, well, a DPOV :) I haven't written it in a while. I hope it turned out okay :) Please, wish me luck tomorrow – I am having an English competition. **


	288. 286 Gravity

**286. Gravity**

POV: Sydney  
>Word count: 390<p>

I'll give it to the vampires: they have a great library – with a great architecture collection. The only problem is that they like to keep it on the top self, a good three meters from the ground.

So that's how I ended up on a ladder, too high up to be in my comforts zone.

"What are you doing on this beautiful day, Sage?" A disturbingly familiar voice called from behind my back, surprising me; I'd thought I was alone.

"It's none of your concern," I said, turning carefully on the top of the ladder, just to find myself face to face with that infuriating Adrian Ivashkov. In the last few days, since I had been confined to the Moroi Court, I swear he had been following me, somehow always appearing when I was alone for a few moments.

"Ah, but I am so interested," he mock-whined, resting his elbows on the ladder, a little bit below of my feet. I tried to ignore him.

I kept searching the titles, but not finding the book I was looking for. I turned again, now inspecting the volumes behind my back, and… _bingo_. There was it.

I leaned backwards, trying to reach it, but I obviously miscalculated the distance, because I couldn't even touch the spine, but I kept trying, leaning even more backwards, and then…

My feet slipped, and the next thing I knew was that I was falling towards the ground. Just as I was readying myself for the impact, someone – Adrian – tried to catch me, positioning his arms below me, but everything happened so fast, and I must have been too heavy for him, too, and in the end we ended in a heap on the floor, he on his back, me technically sitting on his lap.

Then, I swear, he wolf-whistled.

"Well, well… how knew that gravitation was such a great thing!" He was way too happy about it for his own good.

I all but jumped out of his lap, getting as far from him as I could, trying to keep myself from saying something I shouldn't.

And in the exact moment, the book I was trying to get, and apparently managed to loosen up, fell from the self, hitting Adrian on his stomach.

I could barely suppress my laugh.

Gravitation was a great thing after all.

**A/N: Another Sydrian drabble, just for you :)**


	289. 287 To Be Or Not To Be

**287. To Be, Or Not To Be**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 114<p>

Adrian finds that the best time to ponder on the great questions of life is just as he wakes up after a night of solid drinking.

In the mornings, when he can already think clearly, but the headache hasn't set in yet, he just lays in bed, waiting for the pounding to begin, the most bizarre questions pop into his head.

_ Is there any extraterrestrial life?_

Sure. I think I even met one last night.

_ What's on the other side of the moon?_

Darkness. That's what.

_ To be, or not to be?_

That's when he really wakes up and the pounding in his head begins.

Not to be, at least not now, he groans.


	290. 288 The Noblest of Them All

**288. Noblest of Them All**

POV: Third person  
>Word count: 195<p>

Alberta watched this… boy, because times like these, when he was pinning after a girl like a shy teenager, sulking in the corners, he was nothing but a boy.

She liked Dimitri, she really did, but sometimes, he drove her crazy.

He was madly in love with that Hathaway girl, only a blind person couldn't see it, yet, he acted like it was the secret of the century. Like only he knew about it – but she wasn't even sure if he had even admitted it to himself. Nevertheless, he did nothing, but sulked – and that's what was driving Alberta crazy.

See, she had never had the chance the experience real, world-rocking love, and it pained her to see somebody waste the opportunity to live through it.

Because that was happening: these two young people had everything they could have asked for within their reach, but they did nothing. Dimitri did nothing. She could almost guess what was going on in his head: it would be wrong, it would illegal, it wouldn't be noble…

Alberta sighed to herself.

She would have to teach this boy that he didn't have to act so noble all the time.

**A/N: Kind of follows up 285 Temptation – or, we could say, second in the 'more people know about his feeling than Dimitri would like'-series. **


	291. 289 Caesar Salad

**289. Caesar Salad**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 197<p>

When he finally – finally! – managed to ask out this infuriating, amazing girl, he thought that their first date would be at least a little bit less than awkward.

He was wrong.

There they sit, in a casual restaurant not far from Court – Sydney insisted on it, not wanting to be seen with a vampire -, picking at their food, hardly speaking.

Adrian clears his throat. Nothing.

"What's with women and salad?" He asks at last, nodding to the direction of her plate of Caesar salad, not being able come up with a better conversation starter.

"What's up with men and steak?" She answers to his question with another.

"Well, it's manly," he replies, puffing his chest, not letting her easily off the hook.

"And well, it's tasty," she answers, almost playfully, as she takes a bite of her salad, putting on a show of enjoying it, just for him.

Adrian, feeling bold, leans across the table, and steals a little bit of salad from her plate. He props it into his mouth with a show as big as hers.

"You know what? You're right – it's really tasty."

She smiles, and suddenly all awkwardness between them is broken.

**A/N: Huh… it's done :) I hope you liked it – I've been writing about food lately, haven't I? The problem is, I usually see two VA topics when it comes to food: Christian cooking and Sydney picking at her food. Those two are my food-people. (Okay, Rose's there too with her infinite stomach.)**

**Else: we are dangerously close to my overall 1000th review on this site :) Like, 4 or 5 reviews away. Should I offer a one-shot to the person who writes the 1000th? :) One more thing: I just can't get the promised VA one-shot straight :S I've sketched up the storyline, but it just won't work out… I have two A:tLA one-shot sketched up, but I want to write this VA one-shot first – preferably by Valentine's day. **


	292. 290 Men in Black

**290. Men in Black**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 230<p>

Another state dinner at Court, another night when I have to wear my Guardian's uniform – black slacks, white shirt, black blazer. It kind of looks like something Sydney would wear, but damn, do I look sexy in it.

But this doesn't mean that _some people_ can't make jokes about it. By some people I mean Christian.

A few weeks ago I had to wear this outfit because of another royal visit or something like that, and I had an agreement with Lissa that I would go and see her beforehand, to go through the details of it one more time. When I got to the entrance of the suite she shared with Christian, it was Sparky who opened the door. When his gaze fell on me he whistled.

"Well, well, well… let me guess: you came to erase my memories because I've seen something I shouldn't have," he grinned while letting me in.

I didn't get the joke first – it'd been a while since I had seen the movies – and when it did sink, it was too late for a witty comeback. But that didn't mean that I would let him off the hook that easily.

That's why I got some accessories to go with my 'Men in Black'-outfit: a pair of black sunglasses and a shiny, silver pen, tucked into my pocket.

I can't wait to see Sparky's face.

**A/N: So, we did reach the 1000th review yesterday :) and it was ReBelikova who wrote it :) News: I've put the VA one-shot I was talking about aside for a few days – I just can't make it work – and I am working on an A:tLA one-shot right now. It comes easily, so it should be done in a few days :) When it1s finished, I can concentrate on the VA one-shot again :)**


	293. 291 Rumble

**291. Rumble**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 151<p>

The first problem I faced when I arrived at Russia was a very trivial one: where and what to eat?

On the very first day, Saint Petersburg was quite a mystery for me – hell, I could hardly find a hotel to stay in, let alone a McDonald's. Of course, I passed several smaller restaurants, but none of them seemed, well… safe enough for me. Dimitri had told me a little about Russian cuisine, and let's just say that it wasn't encouraging at all.

So I just wandered on the streets, keeping my eyes open, but nothing reliable enough crossed my way. And my stomach was starting to rumble.

I kept going for about ten more minutes, my bag pulling my shoulders down, sometimes walking in ankle-deep snow – then I gave up, and entered the next restaurant.

Food is food, and it doesn't even tastes so strange if you close your eyes.

**A/N: Another musical reference in this drabble :P A little bit harder than the Wicked one :P Who can spot it? :P**


	294. 292 Bathroom

**292. Bathroom**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 227<p>

The bathroom is small, and he can't breath. He doesn't dare to breath.

She is so close, flooding all his sense. The world around them ceases to exist, and the only thing that remains is her – her scent, sweet and unique; her voice, echoing in the small space; her skin and hair and eyes… so many different browns; the shape of her eyes and lips, and all those soft curves; the silk of her skin, her fingers touching his cheek tentatively, wiping of his blood; the taste of her lips, only a faint memory in the back of his mind…

If only…

He wants… he wants so many things, but he wants her the most; right here, right now. He wants to taste and smell and see and hear and feel her again. Devour her, bury his face in her hair, unveil her, hear her sigh and moan, and bury himself deep inside her…

But he can't. Not now, not here. Not ever.

He grabs her hand and pushes it gently away_. (It pains him, pains him so much…)_

"It's enough," he says, his voice hoarse. He can only hope that she won't resist him. If she will… he knows he won't be able to stop himself. "I am okay."

It's over. They leave the bathroom and the moment ends.

But the connection, the longing remains there.

**A/N: After two so-so drabble, finally there's one I am really proud of :) I think it covers several of your favorite topics: it's RxD, it's a peek into Dimitri's mind, it's poetic, it's a little bit naughty… And I have been requested to write this scene from DPOV anyway :P (At least I hope it's clear where this drabble takes place…) my only problem is that I only have the Hungarian edition with me right now, so I can only guess Dimitri's exact words :S**


	295. 293 Shopping Bag

**293. Shopping Bag**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 192<p>

Dimitri tries to ignore it, pretend like that isn't there, but he simply can't.

Among others, a vibrant, pink-striped paper shopping bag is placed next to the foot of the bed - Rose was out shopping with Lissa earlier that day. The first thing that caught his attention was the color – Rose is not too fond of pink, she doesn't really buy pink things –, the second the caption on its side: Victoria's Secret.

He gulped when he first read it, and since then, he just can't get it out of his mind.

What's in that bag? He doesn't even dare to imagine it…

No, he won't peek. Nope. He will wait until Rose gets home, and shows him herself. And anyway, what if she bought it to surprise him? He is not somebody to ruin a surprise… (Anyway, suddenly he finds himself really liking surprises.)

So no, he won't peek – but this doesn't mean that he can't pass a dozen times in front of the bed, wondering what kind… pleasant surprise that little bag may hold.

He won't peek, he can wait…

But Rose had better to come home very soon.

**A/N: Are you still with me? **


	296. 294 Ring

**294. Ring**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 159<p>

Christian rarely drinks, but when he does, he becomes a philosopher – and there are only two problems with that: one, usually his only audience is Dimitri. Two, he, more often than not, philosophies about totally irrelevant stuff, or things that Dimitri not at all interested in.

Today, for example, he philosophies about women and rings.

"I am telling you, buddy, they are all crazy," he slurs, and Dimitri, the faithful Guardian, listens. "They want that ring, but when you give them, they are all… blah! The stone's not big enough, not sparkly enough, not… whatever enough. But if you don't give them… then you are screwed, buddy." He takes a swig of his drink. "D'ya get my train of thought, man?"

Dimitri only nods, not saying anything. Inside, he is grateful for every deity he can list that doesn't need to worry about things like this and waits Christian to pass out.

He does, not even five minutes later.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday :S There was some kind of problem with the system, and I couldn't log in whole day :S**


	297. 295 Jacket

**295. Jacket**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 185<p>

As we have established before, Dimitri is not at all jealous.

So, when he finds a man's jacket amongst Rose clothes, a jacket too small to be his, he doesn't get ideas. Not at all.

No, he only watches Rose very closely all day long, not saying anything, just… collecting information. Nothing is off; she doesn't behave any differently, but that jacket is still there.

Let me repeat: Dimitri is not jealous.

Evening rolls on, and Rose gets enough.

"Alright," she says, putting down her utensils as they are sitting by the dinner table. "What's wrong – and don't even dare saying that nothing is wrong, because I see that something bothers you."

He mumbles something unintelligible, looking at his plate, at his lap, at the wall, everywhere but at her.

"Well… today I found… I found a jacket. A man's jacket…" he doesn't get further.

At first, Rose only looks at him bewildered. Then she starts to laugh. And laughs. Finally, she stands up, walks to him, sits in his lap, and kisses him. Deeply.

"If only you know how adorable you are right now."

**A/N: If you are wondering, the jacket is the one Rose got from Abe's Guardian when she came back from Russia :)**


	298. 296 Photo Frame

**296. Photo Frame**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 173<p>

There are two photos standing on Ibrahim Mazur's desk: one of a young woman – human or Moroi, it's not clear -, the other of a newborn. The woman is pretty, short and auburn-haired. The baby – well, the baby, most likely a girl, assuming from the pink blankets she is wrapped in, is small, her tiny mouth is slightly open as she sleeps.

No-one is brave enough to ask him who they are, but one thing is sure – they are dear to his heart. The photos have been on his desk for more than a decade – maybe even two. He scowls at everyone who dares to make a comment on them, and the maid is instructed to pay extra attention to them, dusting them every day, cleaning the silver frames every second week.

So no-one asks who they are, just watch and wonder. Half-sister? Distant cousin? Maybe a lover?

Then one day, a third picture appears: a young girl, no older than eighteen with tan skin and dark hair, smiling cheekily into the camera.


	299. 297 Laptop

**297. Laptop**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 275<p>

Abe just wanted to be nice – okay, he wanted to win Janine back. And when the flirt and the compliments didn't seem to work, he adapted a new strategy: gifts.

Now, she has never been one for useless knick-knacks like flowers and chocolate and jewels. So, he had to come up with something else, something practical, something she can put into use, but shows that he cares…

So, in the end, he bought her a laptop.

At first, it seemed like a great choice: Janine found the laptop very useful, and was quite grateful for him for giving it to her. She even agreed to go on a dinner date with him afterwards.

There was only one problem, one big problem that Abe only realized about a week later: Janine was a complete idiot when it came to computers.

"Okay, so there's this window that keeps popping up all the time when I click here…" Phone calls like that, always asking for help, but only giving vague descriptions of the problem, became quite frequent after Janine started using her laptop. By frequent I mean about five times a day.

On the seventh day, he had enough, and turned off his cell.

Then, on a second thought, he turned it on again, and sent her a simple text, gently reminding her that Rose had taken IT all through high school, so she must be more up to date on the subjects than he was.

It was a mean thing to do, but at least he got Janine off his back.

And, hopefully, he would have a few days before he had to face his enraged daughter…

**A/N: Wow, I wouldn't have thought that you would like yesterday's drabble this much :)**


	300. 298 Amor Amor

**298. Amor Amor**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 274<p>

Valentine's Day is Valentine's Day, and even though Dimitri couldn't care less about this so called 'holiday', he know that Rose kind of likes it, so, this year he is determined to do something for her.

Nothing over the top, of course – that is not their kind of things. They have already agreed upon going to the movies on Valentine's Day, and having a quite dinner afterwards – nothing special, really – but he has decided to give her something else, too.

He still remembers how her eyes lit up when he gave her that lip gloss oh-so-long ago – why shouldn't he repeat the experience?

For some time, he contemplates on buying her some kind of make up, but then he aborts the idea – he had an easy job with the lips gloss, he had seen it so many times before that it was a child's play to find it, but to pick a product, a color himself? No – he would most likely buy something that clashes with her skin tone or something like that.

So, in the end, he decides to buy her a perfume – I mean, he can't misjudge a scent, can he?

He smells several bottles – too strong, too girly, too spicy… after the tenth bottle his head is spinning. Then the eleventh is the winner: pleasant, not too strong and only a little bit spicy. And it smells distinctly familiar… Perfect. He inspects the bottle: _Amor Amor_.

Well, even the name of it fits, so he buys it.

The only thing he doesn't understand is why Rose starts laughing uncontrollably when he gives it to her on the morning of Valentine's Day.

**A/N: Okay, I admit – I cheated. Today's word would have been Faith, but I wanted to do some R/D for Valentine's Day for you :) Sue me :P**


	301. 299 Faith

**299. Faith**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 147<p>

For as long as I can remember, I have been taught and told to have complete and unquestionable faith – faith in the Lord, faith in the Alchemists, faith in my superiors. Faith in that all vampires are evil and to be feared.

And up until my very first single assignment I believed them – completely, without question.

But then I met Rose, this girl, who was a dhampir, but was so human-like, and was in love with a Strigoi, and she broke the ice wall surrounding me. For the first time in my life, I started to see the world as it really was – not black and white, but millions of shades of grey.

But even though it was shaking, and threatening to break, my faith was still intact.

Then he came.

That arrogant, unbearable, insufferable prat.

Why, oh why have I had to fall for a vampire?

**A/N: My very first not-humorous Sydrian drabble :P I hope you like it :) Anyway, I have realized that how much you, my dear readers, have shaped **


	302. 300 Nathan

**300. Nathan**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 185<p>

Even though he can hardly remember anymore, he was once a normal guy – at least before that horrid night of teeth and blood and death.

He used to attend to St. Vladimir's – he lived there, in the male Moroi dorms, on the third floor; there was an AC/DC poster above his bed, he knows, but he can't remember why he loved them.

He used to love History, and detest Math; he knows it, but doesn't understand it anymore. Why? He also hated his Math teacher; he wanted to get his father have him fired. If he met him now, he would rip his heart out without a second thought.

He used to love a girl; she had brown eyes and blond hair, and her smile was almost as sweet as her blood. He knows – he tasted it, right after he was turned.

Sometimes, when his mind is kind of clear, and he knows not only the facts, but the whys too, he almost wishes that he hasn't been Awakened.

…But then he rips open a throat, and life is perfect again the way it is.

**A/N: Wow :) The 300th drabble :) Who would have thought that we would live to see it? :) Remember when I said that it would be a collection of 100 drabbles? Then you asked me to continue, and I did :) Thank you guys, you are the best! :)**

**Oh, and a little statistics: this story, right now, is almost sixty-two thousand words long, has 836 reviews and over 160K hits. 100 people have put into their favorites and 80 have it on their alert list :)  
>And a little fun-fact: the American-born English teacher I had last year was called Nathan :P<strong>


	303. 301 Elevator

**301. Elevator**

POV: Tasha  
>Word Count: 250<p>

I can feel them watching me as I stand amongst them, their gazes are like pins in the back of my neck. I can almost hear them whispering: 'Look at her face! Poor girl! I wonder how she got those scars…'

It doesn't bother me, not anymore, but it used to. When I was new to this building, when I started holding my classes here, these people, this mindless crowd waiting for the elevator, not only started but probed me with their gazes, asking not only silent questions, but loud ones.

"What happened to your face, miss?" Asked a young boy once. It hurt – no, not the scars, not really, but that I had become the scars. I had no name amongst these humans; no, I was just the girl with the horrible scars on her face.

On the very first day, I gave up. I couldn't bear standing so close to them, so close their rudeness, their indifference; I took the stairs that day, up to the fourteenth floor. And I did that on the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that…

It took me three full months to face the crowd waiting for the elevator again and to ride with them. They don't bother me anymore. They are just people – humans -, and I am me. Not the scar-faced girl, but Tasha Ozera. I have a name, I have a personality.

I am myself.

And they can't hurt me anymore with their stares.

**A/N: Partially inspired by Taylor Swift's 'Ours' :)**


	304. 302 Bubbles

**302. Bubbles**

POV: Lissa  
>word count: 202<p>

Life is so much harder than you think when you are a teenager.

I had to grow up fast; technically, one day I went to bed as a more or less normal eighteen-year-old girl, and the next morning I woke up as the Queen of all Moroi.

I am not complaining; I wouldn't change a thing. It was my destiny, I know it – it had to happen this way. But still…

When you are a teenager, I realize it now, life is like you are living inside of a soap bubble. You can see and hear everything, but everything is muted. The world seems brighter, but far away, and the sounds are less deafening. The wall of the bubble protects you from all the bad around you, but at the same time, it starts to suffocate you, and you want to get out, want to be free…

Then the bubble pops, and you are there, completely unprotected, but free, all alone in the world.

That's what happened to me, with only one little difference: I didn't want to have my bubble popped just yet.

But it's been, and no-one can rebuild it.

Now, the weight of the world is on my shoulders.


	305. 303 Disease

**303. Disease**

POV: Adrian  
>Word Count: 194<p>

Love is a disease, believe me. A strange one, but a disease nonetheless.

At first, the symptoms can be quite pleasurable: butterflies in the stomach, feeling of dizziness, unexplainable happiness. Dire need to be with the on causing your symptoms. I have experienced is, and so much more.

Then comes the bad side of this disease, when suddenly everything goes wrong. It hurts, hurts like hell, and your heart is breaking, and you can't feel the happiness anymore, just the sadness, just the heartache. Sometimes, you want to die.

I have been there, too. I loved and I was dumped. Cruel story, but it happened. And it hurt.

I never wanted to love again – it didn't worth it; the few days of sunshine didn't worth months of torture.

But, of course, destiny, or fate, or whatever, just simply had to defy me, and I am falling in love again – and this time it's even more hopeless than the last time. I want to be healed before it gets too serious.

Another funny thing about the disease called love: it can only be healed by the very person who infected you in the first place.

**A/N: I hope it's clear who the two girls he is talking about are :)  
>Question: I have just (almost) finished another kind-of-Zutara story. The thing is that it is nearly 10K words (when I am done with the corrections, it's gonna be over 11K), and has very little dialogue, so it might be a little bit hard to read in one piece. But, it can be divided into seven parts – only, those parts are quite short compared to my other stories – like between 1200 and 2100 words each. The question is: should I upload it in one big part, or in seven short ones, during the course of a week?<strong>


	306. 304 Knife

**304. Knife**

POV: Lissa  
>Word count: 223<p>

During the last three years it was the bond that really kept Rose and me together. We were friends, best of friends, really, but the bond was what made us something more.

Even though it was mostly for Rose – she was the one who got to feel me, got to see my emotions, my thoughts -, sometimes I swear I felt it too. We were linked, for ever, by our souls.

It pained me to have it lost, too.

For months, I couldn't find my place – not only because of my new title, but because of the new distance between Rose and me as well. I don't now how Rose coped, but she did. I couldn't.

I know deep in my soul that it was better for her, to be free of me, but I couldn't help wishing that we were more than simple friends again. I wanted the bond back – in any form.

So when she appeared in my bedroom on one night with a pocket knife in her hand, a strange look in her eyes, I wasn't afraid. I simply held out my hand without asking questions, and let her slice my palm. Then she cut her own, and put her bloodied hand against mine.

Technically, it changed nothing; honestly, it was kind of silly.

Yet, it helped us so much.

**A/N: Okay, so with today, I am starting to publish this little Zutara one-shot series I told you about yesterday, and also, I am starting to work on the VA story I promised you. The plot doesn't seem to click right now, but I'll make it work somehow – this means that it might be a multi-chapter story (not a long one. Maybe 4 or 5 chapters long). **


	307. 305 Tale

**305. Tale**

POV: Third Person  
>Word count: 193<p>

When she was little, Mia's mother used to tell her stories every night - fairy tales about dragons and knights and princes and beautiful princesses in distress. Mia would watch her, with eyes big as saucers, while her mother spoke. She never read the stories – she always made them up herself, and that's what made them unique.

When she was little, Mia envied the princesses – they were beautiful, rich and loved by a prince. They didn't have to clean others' houses to make a living; in fact, all they had to do was to look beautiful and wait for their prince. They didn't have to wear second-hand clothes, but brilliant dresses. They didn't live in small apartments, but in luminous castles. She wanted be like them.

But Mia is not little anymore, and her mother is dead – there are no more stories for her, not that she would want them. She doesn't envy the princesses anymore. They are passive, good for nothing. They are only sitting in their towers, waiting to be rescued.

She doesn't want that.

She wants to fight.

She wants to be the prince for once and slay the dragon.


	308. 306 Snore

**306. Snore**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 250<p>

It's early in the morning, way too early in my opinion, and I am nowhere being wide awake yet. Saying that I can hardly keep my eyes open – after all, I haven't had my morning coffee yet – would be understatement. So, it's not surprising that I find the way too cheerfully grinning Dimitri rather annoying (side note: he is preparing breakfast. He is hot – in general, and right now as well).

"What?" I ask, or grunt, rather. But it's okay. He understands it.

"Nothing. It's just you were snoring so adorably last night."

My eyes pop open.

"I do not snore!" I protest, but it only makes his smile wider.

"Oh, yes you do," he says, setting a plate of omelets in front of me. The smell of food almost makes me forget his accusations. Almost.

"I'm telling you, I do not snore!" I say, but it's not very effective with my mouth full. He chuckles.

"Of course you don't Rose, of course you don't." I know he is humoring me, but I don't care. I know I am right. There is no way I snore during the night.

The next morning he has to leave before I wake, but he leaves a message for me: my cell, with a small sheet of paper on the top of it, telling me that the device has a recording on it I should listen to. I do as am I told, and listen and play the file.

It's my snoring.

Damn him.

**A/N: Goodness, it's been forever since I wrote a good, fluffy D/R piece :D Some bad news: there might be a little glitch in updates early next week – I'll have to have my laptop reinstalled. In theory, for that few days while my laptop will be at the "doctor's", I will have the laptop of my dorm's magazine borrowed, but I can't promise anything. **


	309. 307 Tongue

**307. Tongue**

POV: Rose  
>Word count: 201<p>

"You know, I am really considering getting a belly button piercing," I say rather nonchalantly as I am having lunch with Mia in one of the smaller restaurants at Court. (No, I still can't cook.) She just nods, chewing on her sandwich.

"That's great," she says at last, when she finally swallows. "Once I wanted to get a piercing, too. Only, I wanted it in my tongue." She says just as nonchalantly, thought the idea if a piece of metal in my mouth makes me shudder.

"And what made you change your mind? Lack of cash?" I ask, taking a big gulp of my soda.

"No, I had enough money and all; I even went to a tattoo parlor where they were doing tongue piercings, but then… well, let's just say I saw how they are made," and with that she sticks out her tongue, pretends to pull it with her fingers, then makes a stabbing motion with her forefinger. "I didn't really want to have it made after that."

"Yikes…" I say, pushing my own sandwich away. Me and my way too vivid fantasy…

Let's just say that I don't find that belly button piercing such a great idea anymore.

**A/N: Good news: I already have the borrowed laptop with me, so there won't be any problems with updating next week. Bad news: I am pretty sure that there's something wrong with this site. There's no way that I had only 67 hits yesterday, when usually just a new drabble gets around 130-150 hits one day, an I uploaded something else yesterday as well…**


	310. 308 Voice

**308. Voice**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

It's crazy, Dimitri knows, but he swears he can sometimes hear _her_ voice.

It doesn't occur when he is calm and relaxing, or when he is alone and tries, actually tries to remember, remember those times when they were together at the Academy, and he got to hold her and kiss her.

No, it happens when he kills.

When he is draining the life from an innocent girl, his lips on her neck in a way too intimate manner, he hears _her_ soft, alluring voice in his head.

She is scolding him.

_ What you are doing is bad. What's happened to you? Where is the Dimitri whom I used to know?_

He hears her, always, but never listens.

Because, after all, being a Strigoi means that you don't care anymore.


	311. 309 Tiptoe

**309. Tiptoe**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 248<p>

She knows it's been a mistake; they shouldn't have done it. She shouldn't have done it. It was unnatural. It was wrong.

He has fallen asleep fast and easy after it (she can even say out loud what has happened between them), but she just can't close her eyes. She is just looking at the ceiling, watching the fan above her turn and turn, and wonders how she will look into the eyes of her reflection ever again.

After what seem like hours, she gets enough; she can't bear it anymore. She gently slips from his embrace, gets out of the bed (the springs softly creak under her), and starts to look for her clothes (God, it's a mess…).

She dresses quietly and tiptoes to the door. He doesn't even stir; doesn't even move. He notices nothing.

But then as her hand is on the doorknob, turning it, he speaks behind her back.

"Sydney?" His voice is heavy with sleep. "Where are you going?" She sighs. What is she supposed to say? But when she doesn't answer, he goes on. "Don't be silly. Come back. It's cold," and he lifts the blanket, inviting her to get back under it.

She sighs again.

She knows she is making a mistake, a second one that night, but she can't help it. She undresses in silence and slips back to the bed, into his arms.

She doesn't know what will happen in the morning. But the night… the night is theirs.


	312. 310 Drop

**310. Drop**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 245<p>

They are drifting away.

This is all what Mia grasps from Christian's gruff silence during their sparring sessions.

Lissa is working too much. Christian just wants to help. Lissa doesn't cooperate. They have a fight. They make up. Then the circle starts again, but the 'I am mad at you"-phase lasts longer – Mia can tell that.

And it hurts her.

Christian is… special. He deserves somebody who is completely devoted to him, not somebody who is half his, half others'. Somebody who is not way too preoccupied by other things.

For example Mia herself.

She could do that, she knows. He wouldn't have to do anything but utter a word, and she would be his, thoroughly and fully. It's hard to admit, but she loves him. Yet, she won't do anything, because her couple wrecking days are over, and because that idiot still loves Lissa no matter what and she doesn't want to hurt him.

So, all she does is nod when he is upset about yet another fight they have had, and offers him yet another sparing session, so he could fight his anger out. That's what their relationship is about – friendship based on anger, and helping to get rid of this anger.

She acts like she doesn't care. Like it doesn't hurt – but it does. And the only tell-tale sign of it is the single teardrop she always sheds when he leaves her after sparing, light-hearted and ready to go back to Lissa.

**A/N: Drop… Teardrop… _Teardrops On My Guitar_ :) Kind of… Dedicated to kittenxxkisses, because, in my eyes it's her pairing :P**


	313. 311 Lie

**311. Lie**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

Eric Dragomir is living a lie.

At home, he is the perfect man, husband, father. He is serious about his business, but never lets it take up too much of his time. He loves his wife, and tells her this every day. He adores his children; when he can, he sits down at the carpet and plays with them and forgets completely that he is a grown man.

But when he is not at home, when he is in Chicago, in New York – in Vegas – he is a completely different man. Somebody his family wouldn't recognize.

He has a mistress – mistresses, really. He has a daughter, born out of wedlock. He has only seen her once – it's not that he doesn't want to meet her again; it's that he doesn't dare.

Away, he is free. At home, he is happy.

But his stomach churns whenever he looks at his children, and kisses her wife, telling her how much he loves her.

It is not easy to live a lie.

**A/N: Hah, brand-new character :) It's been a while since I wrote about anybody other than the main characters, so I thought it was high time to choose somebody not that obvious. I hope you liked it/him :) And yes, mistresses – it's one thing that Emily bore him a child; it doesn't mean that he didn't have anybody else before or after her.**


	314. 312 Monsters

**312. Monsters**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 267<p>

Zoya stood in front of the door, a little bit shy, a little bit scared, her teddy bear tucked under her arm, not quite sure if she should knock.

But after all, there _really_ were monsters under her bed.

Se knocked quietly, then, not even waiting for the answer, opened the door, stepping into the dark room.

"Uncle Dimka? Auntie Roza?" Her voice was incredibly soft, but the two figures lying on the bed still stirred.

"Zoya?" her uncle answered her. "What's wrong, sweetie?" He was already sitting up, and even auntie Roza was trying to wake up just for her.

Zoya tried to tell him, but no words would leave her mouth. Sobbing a little she dashed, jumped on the bed, and snuggled into her uncle's lap. "There are monsters under my bed. They wanna hurt me. Please, make them go away!"

She felt uncle Dimka turn his head, looking at auntie Roza, then she was lifted from his lap and set down again against the pillows, the duvet pulled over her.

"Stay here; we're going to be back in a few minutes – after we have gotten rid of those monsters," uncle Dimka placed a kiss on her forehead, then he and auntie Roza left the room, closing the door quietly.

Zoya calmed down in an instant – uncle Dimka and auntie Roza was going to chase those monsters away very quickly; after all, it was their job.

Everything was going to be alright.

By the time Dimitri and Rose got back after dealing with the "monsters" under Zoya's bed, the little girl was already fast asleep.

**A/N: Sigh… I have always had a soft spot for cute family fluff :)**


	315. 313 Red

**313. Red**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 207<p>

The last minutes of Dimitri Belikov's life as a dhampir can be described with one word: red.

Red is the color of his blood, dripping into his eyes. During the fight he must have hurt his head, and scalp wounds bleed a lot. By the time he is in the deadly grasp of his opponent, he can hardly see anything from the red river in front of his eyes.

Red is his anger. He is angry at the world, but mostly at himself, for getting caught, for not being the stronger one, for letting himself to be defeated by a Strigoi. He is angry, because he thinks that it's unfair to die now, this way, so young.

Red is his panic. He fears his life, as it is only natural, even thought he knows that it ends now either way, but he fears Rose's life more. Did she make out of the cave in time? Did she get behind the wards of the school before the Strogoi could have gotten to her? Was she alright?

But then his blood drains from his veins, his body goes limp, and it is over. The dhampir Dimitri Belikov is dead. The red fades.

Dimitri Belikov, the Strigoi stirs. Darkness awakens.

**A/N: Back in December I took part in the first round a short story analyzing contest (I didn't want to go. I was under pressure). Really, I did a half-assed job. Finished at half-time, when I still had much to write, but I was simply way too lazy to go into the details.  
>We got the results today: out of 97 contestants, I came third in the first round XD What would have happened if I had taken this contest seriously? :D<strong>


	316. 314 Jerk

**314. Jerk**

POV: Christian  
>Word Count: 191<p>

People say that I am unmanageable, unbearable, a horrible person. A real jerk. They think I can't hear them, but I do.

They haven't got an ounce of respect – or even pity – for me. They know my parents chose to become Strigoi, but all they deduce from it that I might decide to join them one day. Actually, they kind of expect me to go for their necks in the next moment.

They don't know that it might hurt me. That I might miss my parents; my father, who used to give me piggy-back rides, and my mother, who used to tuck me in every night. They have their own parents to fight with, to rebel against; I only have my memories.

I can't make them shut up; I can't make them see. So, the only thing I do is to play along. They want me to be a jerk? So I will be. I will talk back, be gruff, and set people on fire whenever I like it. I don't care.

But I still hope that one day somebody will come who will be able to see right through me…

**A/N: I hate that I am a senior, and thus, taking technically life-altering exams in two short months. I hate it especially now: a few minutes after 9 p.m. – that's about an hour and half ago – my English teacher called me. She asked, absolutely theoretically of course, that how fast could I pack for a week-long trip to Italy – my school is doing week-long student exchange programs, and a group is leaving for Italy this weekend. One girl from this group got sick and can't go – thus, my teacher offered me her place. One week in Italy, technically for free, the only thing to do there is to enjoy the place, make friends and have fun.**

**And I had to say no – I can't afford to be absent from school for a week, not now :(**


	317. 315 Arguments

**315. Arguments**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 174<p>

Most people who know them think that Rose and Dimitri live in perfect harmony; that they are those kind of people who never have a row. True, in public, they appear to be perfectly attuned to each other, always knowing what the other is thinking, what the other is planning to do. There is no fault in that – they really are in sync, but that doesn't mean that they don't argue in private.

Their neighbors can be asked – sometimes the whole hallway can hear them. Little things build up in them, and they erupt when they retire to their flat. They argue about work, about chores, sometimes about money, just like every other couple.

But these quarrels are short-living, as they usually only last half an hour or so. Then, when all tension is out, and they can think clearly again, they become almost shy and crawl back to the other, asking for forgiveness. It is always given, and their make up is, without exception, followed by lovemaking.

It's just the way they work.


	318. 316 Angel

**316. Angel**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

When the fire went out and Dimitri was himself again, he looked up at the blonde-haired, green-eyed girl above me, at her blistered hands and tear-soaked face, and he swore that he saw an angel.

From then on, he regarded Lissa as such – she was his angel, and he all but took an oath to serve her all his life, to be her devoted follower. Back then, when he was so emotionally unstable, it seemed right – more than right. It seemed like the only passable path. He excluded everybody else from his life. He convinced himself that he needed no-one else.

But then his life was turned upside-down again. Rose, the girl – the woman – whom he wanted to forget so much, was there again, by his side, and it was right, so right, but so wrong…

And during that short time they spent together he realized that his angel was not at all blonde and green-eyed, but tan-skinned and dark haired.

And he needed her.


	319. 317 Lost

**317. Lost**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 161<p>

Dimitri loved Rose, he really did, but in some cases, she was hopeless. For example, she just couldn't keep her things tidy. Or, rather, she couldn't control her mess.

It's not that chaos ensued wherever she went, with unwashed utensils in the kitchen and dirty clothes on the floor; she just kept loosing her things, which, after days of intense searching, turned up at the most surprising places.

For example when she – sigh – lost sight of her Guardian ID.

It was a very important document, a little card which was asked on every occasion when a Guardian had to be identified. Which meant almost every second day.

And she lost it.

They turned their apartment with joined forces upside down twice, yet couldn't find it, so in the end, with great embarrassment, she required another one.

And just as her new ID arrived, Dimitri found her old one – in one of his western novels, tucked between the pages as a bookmark.


	320. 318 Spongebob

**318. Spongebob**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 207<p>

Sydney just simply can't get this cartoon.

Fire under the sea; ugly fish-alikes in pants; greasy burgers made of who knows what (she doesn't want to know); a squirrel dressed in a spacesuit; terrible, annoying characters. She just can't stand it.

"Oh, don't be so grumpy about it, Sage!" Ivashkov – Adrian, she reminds herself – nudges her side with his elbow, while offering her some popcorn from the bowl held in his other hand. "Lay back, relax, and enjoy it. You won't see the beauty of it if you just sit here all grumpy." He grabs the remote and raises the volume, just as the main character – and oversized yellow bathing sponge in shirt and pants – laughs. Sydney cringes at his voice. "And anyway," leans back Adrian, half-wanting to drape his arm around her shoulder, "we have a deal. I watched that that hell-damned National Geographic show you so wanted me to see, now you are going to watch this show with me. No buts." He yawns. After all, it's still Saturday morning. "Now, watch and enjoy, your grumpiness."

She is mad at him, she really is. And the show really is annoying.

And she wouldn't admit for anything that in the end she finds herself enjoying it.


	321. 319 Mind Games

**319. Mind Games**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 157<p>

Isaiah likes this kind of games – it isn't the first time he has played them.

Get a few victims – humans, dhampirs, it doesn't matter as long as you have at least one Moroi amongst them. Starve them. Tell the Moroi he can be free if he kills. Watch him break.

They always give in, and it is, in Isaiah's eyes, beautiful. No matter how pacifist, how weak they are, in the end every single one of them kills and becomes Strigoi. Isaiah can't be sure why they do this – because of the lack of blood, or because they go mad? Well, after all, it doesn't matter – he just wants to see them suffer and crumble in front of his feet.

They are pathetic, really. Weak little worms, always giving up so soon. They don't deserve the greatness what it means to be a Strigoi.

…That's why he kills all of them as soon as they are awakened.


	322. 320 Credit Card

**320. Credit Card**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 132<p>

This is my very first credit card.

It's not that it's a big deal or something like that, not at all… And anyway, this money I got from Adrian is for my mission – finding Dimitri and freeing his soul. I need this money for travelling and food and a place to stay. Nothing else. Nothing extravagant. Nothing.

Really.

There's no reason to show off. No reason to waste money on useless things like… like thousand dollar dresses I would only wear once or twice, and even then, knowing my luck, I would tear them. I don't need stilettos either.

This money is not for a shopping spree.

But damn, if I want to get in to the Nightingale, I have to look nice and classy.

A little shopping has never hurt anyone…

**A/N: Because we all know that not-that-deep down Rose is quite a woman :P **


	323. 321 Journal

**321. Journal**

POV: None  
>Word Count: 146<p>

"Oh Sage, I didn't know you keep a diary!"

"I do not; I don't have time for fickle things like that."

"Then what is it? Because a hardcover notebook with plenty of handwriting – your handwriting, if I am not mistaken – in it pretty much seems like a diary to me."

"I told you, it's not a diary. It's just a journal."

"And your point is…?"

"It's for solely professional reasons. No mushy feelings, no crying over meaningless things, only clear and hard facts; Strigoi sightings, missing Moroi, potions made, ingredients used, ingredients I am running out of… data, data, data… hey, what are you doing? Close it! Don't you dare to read it! That book has top secret Alchemist information in it! Didn't you hear me, Adrian…"

"Top secret Alchemist info my ass… Who knew that my name was one of your dirty little secrets, Sage…"

**A/N: Gosh, I have wanted to do an all-dialogue fic in a very long time :) **


	324. 322 White

**322. White**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 167<p>

When I try to remember what it was like to be dead – after all, I died twice -, I can't remember anything specific.

The car crash with Lissa's family is completely blank; I remember nothing, not even the crash itself. One moment we were laughing over something with Lissa, the next I was lying in a hospital bed, Lissa sobbing quietly next to me. For years, I didn't even know that I had died. None of us did.

The second time… the second time is clearer. I was eighteen and I got shot. It hurt and it was hot and then cold and I was getting weaker and weaker, and then…

Whiteness.

I don't remember anything else, but whiteness. It wasn't good or bad or anything, only… white.

Afterwards, during the first days when I was conscious again, I thought about it. Was death really like this? Utter, blank whiteness?

I don't know. And I don't even want to find out for a very, very long time.

**A/N: I am not, not at all... I have been fighting with all weekend, I couldn't update, then as a last resort, I put in my mobile internet modem, and it works immediately...**


	325. 323 Ring

**323. Ring**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 238<p>

Ibrahim proposed to her thrice.

The first time was after their first night spent together. The sunlight was poring into the room, he was spooned against her back, his arms around her waist, and he whispered into her ear:

"You are the most exquisite woman I have ever met. Marry me."

She just laughed at him; she thought he wasn't serious. She thought that they were just fooling around, that there was nothing serious between them. After all he was a Moroi with a great future ahead of him, and she was only a lowly dhampir.

The second time he asked her when she found out that she was pregnant. Both of them were shocked – they thought that they had been careful – and so helpless, and he simple got down on one knee, and asked her again.

She told him no; she thought he only wanted her because she was carrying his child. She didn't want his pity. They parted ways.

That was nearly twenty years ago. Their daughter is a woman now, with a man on her side, and they are older, so much older and wiser, in some ways.

This time, he brings a ring – it's gold and diamond and so much prettier than she deserves – and there's nothing that would make them wed, no impulses, no child in the way, yet he is proposing, and it's a proper proposal this time.

And she says yes.


	326. 234 Olena

**324. Olena**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

When Dimitri was born, she wasn't happy – she didn't want a son. A boy was expected to train, to become a Guardian. A boy was expected to go to far away lands and fight with Strigoi. A boy was expected to die young, with honor, while fighting.

She didn't want this for any of her children.

She never encouraged him to become a Guardian – he needed no encouragement. He knew his place. If it was up to her, he would have stayed in Baia, taking up some trivial profession. But he was such a great person, somebody destined to become so much more than a small town man.

She cried when he left, when he went to America. She was careful not let him see her tears.

She was proud, so proud when he returned years later, tall and proud and happy, with the love of his life on his side.

And Olena was so happy to have a son.


	327. 325 Karolina

**325. Karolina**

POV: third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

When they were little, being the oldest meant that she could boss everyone around. Dimitri would marry her dolls and Sonya would be her servant when she wanted to be the princess, if she had told them so.

At seven, she loved being the oldest.

Then the years went by, and she realized that being the oldest meant that she had to take care of them, look out for them, worry about them when something didn't go according to plan. She was the one who always went through the meager news they got from the States with mother, always looking for Dimitri's name, always being a little bit less worried when they didn't find anything. She was the one who tried to consult Sonya about her life, about her future, about her baby. She was always the one who tried to knock some sense into Viktoria when she was completely irresponsible again. And she was the one who bickered with Paul and changed Zoya's nappies.

At twenty-seven, she would have done everything to be the youngest.

**A/N: It's been a while since I wrote an award one-shot – it's been a while since I wrote a VA story other than my drabbles, period :D So I have decided to make a little offer – we are still pretty far from it, but whoever writes the 1000th for this story, gets a one-shot of his or her choice :) How long will it take to reach 1000? It's only up to you – it can be a week or two, or it can be a month or two :)**


	328. 326 Sonya

**326. Sonya**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 161<p>

Frankly speaking, this baby now growing in her stomach was an accident.

She didn't want a baby, not now – she had plans, she had goals. She wanted to save up enough money to go to Novosibirsk, or maybe even to Moscow, and study there. She wanted to get a degree.

And now all of her dreams are ending up in smoke.

She doesn't blame her baby; it's only her fault, not his. She tries to love him, too, tries to be devoted to him, to adore him, whenever he shifts inside her belly, but she simply… can't. She can only hope it'll change when she gives birth.

And it hurts. It hurts not to be able to love her children properly. It hurts to know that she will have to raise him alone. It hurts to give up all her dreams.

But what hurts most is knowing that when she told her family that she was pregnant, they weren't even surprised.


	329. 327 Viktoria

**327. Viktoria**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

She hated Rose, she really did.

…For a time being.

During the fist week after their… confrontation, all her thoughts were tinted in red. She couldn't believe that the woman she had considered a sister had betrayed her; that Rose had envied her so much that had to go and destroy her relationship.

She was a real bitch.

But then her rage started to fade, and soon she began to see the things Rose had seen, but she had turned a blind eye to: that Rolan had been far from honest with her; that he had been only playing with her; that he had never loved her.

She had never felt more awful than when she realized how unjust she had been to Rose.

The only thing she dared to hope that one day she could make it up to her.


	330. 328 Paul

**328. Paul**

POV: Third Person  
>word Count: 120<p>

It was hard to understand what was going around him, why was suddenly everybody so sad. They kept mentioning uncle Dimka's name, but it didn't mean him much.

He remembered uncle Dimka – vaguely, but he did. He was mum's brother, but Paul had been very little the last time he visited. He knew that uncle Dimka was tall, really tall, and that he had a nice smile; he recalled that he had sat down with him on the carpet and played with him. He reckoned that uncle Dimka had even brought him a toy car.

But that's all. Nothing more. He was just a distant memory, a face among many.

He didn't get why everybody around him was so sad…


	331. 329 Justin Bieber

**329. Justin Bieber**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 238<p>

It was getting really annoying.

"Have you seen his newest pics?" The girl sitting at the neighboring table said to her friend, to what the other responded with giggling.

"I have! Isn't he just simply dreamy?" The other said with a completely idiotic expression on her face. "I know he is a human, but I swear, I would love to take a sip of him!" She sighed.

I made a promise to myself to avoid the cafeteria from here on in.

"Oh, don't you say! I would compel him, and have him sing for me every day!" the first girl giggled. I wanted to plug my ears.

"Ah, just thinking about his voice makes me so…" She lowered her voice, leaned closer to her friend, and stage-whispered the last word to her. "…wet." And with that they both started laughing. I wanted to bang my head to the table.

"You are right! Justin is just the perfect man!"

I snorted; that was the point until I could hold myself back.

"Oh, please," I turned in my seat facing them. "Have you ever seen a real man? Have you ever been touched by one?" I asked with, I admit, not little sarcasm.

The two little sluts ruffled their theoretical feathers.

"Why, have you?" The louder of the two asked, her voice rising with anger.

An evil smile found its way to my face.

"If only you would know, darling…"

**A/N: Do you see what are you making me do? :D Anyway, I have never met die-hard JB fans (thank goodness), so I am not saying that they are acting like this…**


	332. 330 Pajama

**330. Pajama**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 124<p>

Back in the Academy I always worn oversized, worn out, frayed T-shirts as PJs, and fantasized about short, silk nightgowns and lacy baby dolls I would wear to bed when I finally had a steady boyfriend.

Oh, how naïve I used to be!

Don't get me wrong – I could very well wear those kinds of things now, considering I have a boyfriend – er, soul mate. 'Boyfriend' sound so immature to describe what we have -, but I simply… don't. I mean, of course, I do sometimes, for special occasions, when I want to surprise Dimitri, or something, but not in general.

Because, why would I wear some skimpy, itchy, overdone thing, when I can put on one of Dimitri's comfy, warm, all Dimitri-scented shirts?


	333. 331 Contact

**331. Contact**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 106<p>

Sydney called it a contact.

In her reading, it was an agreement between two people, which meant quality time spent together with activities pleasant to both parties. Mostly, these activities were prescheduled, and took place in public, or semi-public places. Some of them even had a dress code. This deal also contained not little bickering – or teasing, it's only the matter of point of view – and, on her part, a little shame. It also came with physical contact to some extent, as long as it was beneficial to both parties. It also assumed the existence of some feelings towards each other.

Adrian called it a relationship.

**A/N: I had a really hard time with this prompt – I had no idea what to write about it at first. The only thing I was sure about was that it had to be about Sydney, I mean, 'contact' is such a Sydney-word :D**


	334. 332 Imagination

**332. Imagination**

POV: Jill  
>Word Count: 231<p>

When I was a little girl, I often imagined that I was a princess – I mean, who didn't do it?

I would sneak into my mum's room and _'borrow' _one of her dresses from her time in Vegas. I mean, I didn't know then they were from Vegas, the only thing I knew that they were sparkly. I put them on – they were hilariously big for me -, and even stole a little make up from her, smudging red lipstick on my lips and cheeks. Then I would put on my jewelry – they were made of plastic, mind you, but mum wouldn't let me touch hers. One time, to perfect my appearance, I even tried to straighten my hair. The only things I accomplished were a burned-off lock and a blister on my finger.

When I was all pretty and fabulous, I would sneak back to my room, line up my plushies and dolls, then would put my little chair on a stack of books, making a makeshift throne. That was where I would sit all afternoon, giving orders to my subjects – my toys.

…I even have the tape to prove it. Mum recoded it all.

Then years passed, and the next thing that I know is that I am a princess – and actual one, with a real title and real responsibility.

And I don't want to be a princess anymore.

**A/N: The burned-off-lock idea comes from the movie Little Women (it might have been in the book, too, but I am not sure :S It's been a while since I read it), when the two older girls are getting ready for a ball or something like that, and they are having their hair curled by their younger sisters, but one of them keeps the curling iron for too long in one of the girls' hair, and the lock simply comes off, cause a little panic :D Lovely movie, I tell you. **


	335. 333 Knowledge

**333. Knowledge**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 247<p>

It's unusual for anyone to ask Dimitri about his time as a Strigoi – mostly, people around him, his fellow Guardians try to forget those few months he spent in Russia, on, technically, a killing spree. He wouldn't tell them about it, anyway – he tells Rose about it, sometimes, but no-one else.

This is the past, it is understood and noted. Nobody wants to disturb it.

Expect this guy.

He is new, and so young – younger than Rose – and he is so eager that it borders annoying. And, most surprisingly, he is not at all repulsed by the idea that now he is working with a former Strigoi. No – he wants to know about everything. And, as it turns out, subtlety is not his forte.

"Now come on, tell me about it," he urges Dimitri, "how was it? Was it awesome or awful? How many did you kill a night? What about the senses? They must have been wicked, man, haven't they?"

Dimitri tells himself that it would do no good to anyone if he crushed this eager-beaver's nose.

So he just turns to him, and using his best ruthless Strigoi imitation, he tells him:

"Believe me, kid, you don't want to know about it. Or, if you really want to… I can have it arranged for you."

The new guy pales in a blink, and Dimitri knows that he won't bother him again.

To be honest, he will steer clear of Dimitri for a very long time.

**A/N: Maniacal laugh… maniacal laugh… (okay, I just watched Muppets a few days ago XD)**


	336. 334 Banter

**334. Banter**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 110<p>

Sometimes, only sometimes, Rose and Christian's banters are simply annoy the living hell out of Lissa. Especially when Christian gets enough of the royals and Rose is Dimitri-deprived.

"What's up, Sparky, lost your lighter?"

"Oh please, if you need a little flame, you can just simply tell me. I can see that you haven't had some hot action in a while…"

"I still get to play with the flames more than you do."

"Why would you think that, oh, Queen of Troubles?"

"A little birdie has told me…"

A moment of silence. Then…

"Lissa!"

Yes, sometimes they are annoying. But ninety-nine percent of the time? They are simply, utterly entertaining.

**A/N: Spring laziness has set in, creativity levels are low…**


	337. 335 Secret

**335. Secret**

**A/N: Continuation of 293 Shopping Bag, because 1, many of you have asked for it and 2, it's been a while since I wrote a naughty drabble :P**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 201<p>

Let's begin with pointing out something: during the days following the shopping-bag incident the contents of the said bags weren't the only thing in Dimitri's mind.

No, he though about Rose, her different body parts and ways of taking h… I mean, ways of taking care of their apartment. And about work, too. Occasionally.

So, in short, yeah – he became pretty obsessed about those bags in a rather short time.

Now, on contrary to the popular belief, Dimitri is not a very patient person. If he wants to know something, he has to know it as soon as possible. Even if it means that he has to throw his pride to the dogs.

So, not being able to hold his horses anymore, he simply asked Rose three days after the shopping trip. She only smiled at him, picked something out of her drawer and then went into the bathroom.

She came about five minutes later in something… God above… something that completely rendered Dimitri speechless – it was tiny and lacy and silky and… _damn_. He really couldn't form proper sentences – neither in English nor Russian – in Rose's presence while she was wearing… _that_.

Not that he needed this ability that night.

**A/N: I can't believe it, but the first episode of Legend of Korra is out! :D (okay, not officially…) I watched it today, and well… It's great in itself, but I can't help thinking about the original characters :(**


	338. 336 Lingerie

**336. Lingerie**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 185<p>

"Are you sure that I am going to need this?" I asked Rose while eyeing the black, lacy bra she had handed to me. It seemed pretty… discouraging. Yes, that's the right word: discouraging.

"Sure I am," she answered as confidently as always. "Things are getting serious between Adrian and you, aren't they?"

"Well, yeah, but…" _But not that I want them to get more serious. But I don't think I am ready for this. But I cannot understand why I would wear this… thing!_ "But."

"Look, Sydney," she looked into my eyes. "You don't prepare for a battle everyday, but still, you don't leave your comfort zone without weapons, do you?"

"But," I tried to tell her that I never prepare for battles and don't really carry guns – or silver stakes – around, but she didn't let me finish.

"It's just a damn metaphor, Sage."

I considered this for a moment.

"So this," I held up the lingerie, "is my weapon?"

Rose nodded, somewhat proudly.

Okay, so I might not be completely sure about it, but… a girl can't go around completely unarmed, can she?


	339. 337 Wild

**337. Wild**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 144<p>

Maybe, just maybe, the first thing that drew Dimitri to Rose was her wildness.

She was impulsive and harsh, and almost always acted first and thought only later, and because of it she was always, always in trouble. During the very beginning of their acquaintance not a week passed without Dimitri being notified of her misbehavior.

There was a point in their relationship – very early on – when he thought that he had to tame her. That he had to make her understand that what she was doing was dangerous. That he had to make her see that it would never make her any good.

But then he fell in love with her, and started really seeing her; he started to understand how the gears in her head were working.

And soon he knew that if had tamed her, it would have only broken her.


	340. 338 Stalker

**338. Stalker**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 175<p>

Abe was completely positive that his hired guards thought that he was a total stalker. And maybe a pedophile, too.

Because why on Earth would he always demand information about a girl he had absolutely no relation to? Because that was all his employees knew: that he was obsessed with this teenaged dhampir girl, who lived across the country and had never done anything remarkable other than always being in trouble.

Yet, Abe Mazur was always eager to get the most meaningless information about her. It wasn't an easy feast as she was living in St. Vladimir's, which was practically a fort, but his hired detectives did everything they could. Especially after one of them, who had provided Abe a few photos taken of the said girl with the Dragomir family during the summer holiday, had been given a very generous sum for his services.

But there was one thing that none of his employees knew. One thing almost nobody knew – that Rose Hathaway wasn't just some pretty dhampir girl to him.

She was his daughter.


	341. 339 Donut

**339. Donut**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 172<p>

If nothing else, there is one thing that human police officers and Court guardians have in common: their mutual love for donuts.

There is also this routine going on at Court: every morning a newbie – anybody who has been there for less than a year – is supposed to bring the desired amount of donuts (several dozens) from the appointed place (the best bakery at Court; any other place is unacceptable) into the guardian office. This little task is even included into their schedules; one morning, one newbie, one after another, going in a full circle. It's a sacred tradition what nobody dares to disturb (not even Rose Hathaway).

So it's no wonder that when one morning a newbie by the name of James Humphrey, who was on donut-duty that day, found the aforementioned bakery closed, he simply chose not to go to work that day.

After all, he would have rather faced the wrath of Hans alone, rather than facing the wrath of all the donut-deprived guardians.

And damn, he was right.


	342. 340 Circles

**340. Circles**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 287<p>

It wouldn't be too far from the truth to say that Adrian is a little bit vain. Okay, so maybe not just a little bit.

He knows what being attractive means – easy way with the ladies, people trust you easier, the road has less bumps for you… and things like those. So, after all, it's completely understandable that he wants to look good.

Designer clothes are the start; some people won't even talk to you – at least not in the circles where Adrian usually spends his time – if you are not dressed elegantly enough. (Just for the ladies: the silk undergarments are just as important as the other parts of his attire. After all, who knows where the night will end…). Then comes the hair – it takes a little time to style it in a way that it looks like he has done nothing with it, but it worth the effort. And, to top it all: an all-winning, naughty, crooked smile.

Of course, good looks often mean partying (how do these two things relate, don't ask me), partying means long nights, long nights mean little sleep, and, well, little sleep often result in dark circles under one's eyes, which, it turns out, not at all attractive.

Yes, they can be easily dealt with – a little bit of foundation under the eyes and the problem is already solved.

But Adrian Ivashkov is a man, and there are some things he would never do, not even in the name of looking good. One of them is wearing make up.

So, instead of foundation, he simply puts a pair of sunglasses on. At least with them he looks like a poker player, and, as study shows, chicks dig poker players.

**A/N: IMPORTANT I'd like to ask you, my readers, a little favor. First of all, I'd like to ask if any of you or somebody you know speaks and writes any kind of Chinese dialect. If yes, please, contact me. What I am asking for takes no more than five minutes of your time, but it would mean a lot to me. Thank you!**


	343. 341 Typo

**341. Typo**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 296<p>

If there was one thing Jill enjoyed about being royalty, it was seeing her name in the papers. A few months after Lissa's coronation she was already a real article-hunter; she would flip through half a dozen newspapers – broadsheets, tabloids and magazines alike – every day in search of her and her friends' names.

Her little mania might have been a little annoying, but sometimes it could still cause a good laugh. For example, on that particular afternoon.

It was not a remarkable day; just a lazy, April Sunday. Enjoying the balmy spring weather, the five of them – Lissa, Christian, Rose, Dimitri and Jill - were relaxing in the gardens, chit-chatting, reminiscing, laughing, and, in Jill's case, magazine reading.

"Hey, I found another one!" she exclaimed suddenly, as turning the page she found another article mentioning her. As she started to read it out loud, everybody turned to her direction. "It's about the visit we made to that hospital last week. It says 'Last Saturday, Queen Vasilissa, along with her sister Princess Jillian Dragomir and partner, Chris…" She stopped suddenly, color rising to her cheeks. For a long moment it seemed like she was choking – Dimitri was already half out of his seat – but then she started laughing like a madman. "This is… it's… damn, it's the best!" She managed to say between her laughs.

Not a very patient person, Rose snatched the magazine from her hands, eager to know what was so funny.

"So, 'with her sister, Princess Jillian Dragomir and partner," a sinister smile appeared on her face, "Christina Ozera.'" And with that, she started laughing and soon the others joined as well. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Lady Ozera," she mock-bowed to Christian.

Well, he didn't laugh. Only his eyes were twitching disturbingly…


	344. 342 MTV

**342. MTV**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 297<p>

No matter how popular it is seemingly today, I just simply can't grasp the "awesomeness" – words of some of my former classmates – of MTV. I mean, what do they have to offer? Music – well, yeah, fragments of it. If I am lucky, I can catch two or three music videos a day… but other than that? Well, let's see…

There is that My Super Sweet Sixteen – I've had enough of that while I was at St. Vlad's. When turning sixteen, all those snuck up royal girls had a roof-rising party. Usually, I wasn't invited – not that I would have wanted to go anyway. It was enough to be around them while the classes lasted.

And then there is that Cribs show, or how it is called. Well, I have had my fair share of that, too. During the first weeks of her regime, Lissa was invited to technically every royal family for dinner, and those dinners included a tour around the hosts' house, and I, being the faithful Guardian I am, followed them as Lissa was shown the twelfth bedroom where some famous ancestor of the hosts had lived. And honestly, some of the royal houses put shame on those ones showed on the TV!

And to top it all, there's Sixteen and Pregnant; that show has always given me chills. It's not that I am particularly afraid of sharing the same fate as the show's stars – I am the furthest from it – but all those pregnant girls always make me think of Baia and the Belikovs. What if the girl featured in the next episode will be Viktoria?

So, to sum it all up, why would I watch crappy TV shows about the things I can find around me in an even crappier and scarier version?

**A/N: I don't watch MTV. I don't watch TV, period. (Only very rarely. I even download my series rather than watching them on TV) So, if there is any factual error in this drabble, that is the reason for it :D**


	345. 343 Teamwork

**343. Teamwork**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 183<p>

To be quite frank, Hans had been rather wary of the decision of putting Hathaway and Belikov in positions so closely related in the beginning. He hadn't been able to see the point of it – romance between Guardians was a taboo in itself, but to have two Guardians maintaining a relationship working with Moroi who are, too, together, was bordering atrocious. No – it was downright dangerous.

But it wasn't actually his decision to make, so he simply ate the eel.

But then came that raid on that Stirgoi nest that was too close to Court to comfort, and then Hans saw them work together – really together – for the first time, and all his fears evaporated in a blink of an eye.

They moved not like two people, but like one entity in two bodies. They were lethal and beautiful. Their love was there, and it was not; in that moment, they were not lovers, but something more. Their feeling for each other did not get in their way, only strengthened them.

And that moment, Hans completely understood why they were let working together.

**A/N: Wish me luck tomorrow! :) My drama club has a performance, and it's also my debut as a director, so I am rather nervous about it already **


	346. 344 Honor

**344. Honor**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 132<p>

There are moments when all I want to do is to grab her and kiss her and feel her and make her mine…

But then I remember.

She is with Adrian and I can do nothing about it, because there are things above love – responsibilities and duty and honor.

Honor. Such a strange thing. I have always thought myself to be an honorable man, but thinking about it, ever since Rose stepped into my life, I didn't do anything to her but dishonorable things.

I played with her feelings, with her heart – not consciously at first, but I did. I took her purity. I left her, breaking her, was a total jerk to her, pushing her away…

So how could I still claim to love her, to claim myself to be honorable?


	347. 345 Molnija

**345. Molnija**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

She should be proud, Janine knows. Her daughter is practically grown up now – she has had her first kill, she has her first molnija now.

_ She is only seventeen…_

Rose is a warrior. She is skilled. Talented – even more talented than her mother. She will go far.

_ She is so young to be broken already…_

Janine was over twenty five when she first killed. She still remembers like it happened yesterday; some nights she still wakes from nightmares about that day.

_ She isn't even out of high school yet. She should have nonfigurative, nonsensical designs tattooed on the small of her back, not molnijas on the back of her neck…_

Janine knows she should be proud as she watches Rose being tattooed, but she is only sorry for her daughter.


	348. 346 Mt Everest

**346. Mt. Everest**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 236<p>

Adrian Ivashkov is annoying in general. Everyday, without exception. But he is even more annoying when he is drunk. Or when he is trying to flirt with me. But the worst is when he is drunk and trying to flirt with me.

But, I have to admit, sometimes his drunken antics can be rather entertaining.

There was one particular night, when I was dragged to some vampire party with Rose and her friends – don't ask me how did they manage that; I won't answer – and halfway through the night, I ended up at a table, sitting alone with the pretty drunk Adrian Ivashkov. When I say "pretty drunk" I mean the phase of drunkness when he hasn't passed out yet, but is already saying crazy things. Just like that night.

"Sage, you pretty thing," he said, leaning closer. "If only you'd know what I would do for you… I would even climb the Everest for you!"

At first, he saying it wasn't a big deal. But then he spent the next half hour explaining in detail how he would do it and why would it benefit me. Then he just passed out.

Of course, he didn't remember any of it the following day, but it was all for the best. Other way I would have missed that priceless, confused look on his face when during our next meeting, I handed him a book on Mount Everest.


	349. 347 iPod

**347. iPod**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 206<p>

Dimitri guesses, from a half-sentence she said, most likely unintentionally, during one of their training sessions that Rose would like to get an iPod for her birthday. And it's okay, because he loves her, and would love to get it for her – after all it's a pretty common thing, actually it isn't linked to anything romantic, but is still a nice gesture, and he has even found a model he thinks she would like… but then, of course, life has to step in.

Because he can't really afford it. And because even thought it's still pretty common, it would still look a little bit suspicious. And anyway, what if he has misread her signs, and she wouldn't even want an iPod?

So he forgets it, deciding on getting her something even more trivial. A book, maybe. Or a pair of gloves.

A few months later he is in Russia, and he has all the power of the world in his hands – at least he feels like it. He can have everything: blood, money, jewels – even that cute little iPod he wanted to buy for Rose all that time ago when he was just a pitiful dhampir.

But the thing is that he doesn't want it anymore.

**A/N: Wait for it… Something big is on its way for all readers and writers in this fandom… :)**


	350. 348 Art

**348. Art**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 157<p>

When they first start to really talk, and even listening to what the other has to say, it is freakishly startling how easily they find a common topic.

Sydney is all about architecture: domes and tympanums and columns in every shape – how knew that there was one kind of column shaped like a woman? – and she is so enthusiastic about them that Adrian can't help but adore her.

Adrian is all about painting: sfumato and seccos and pointillism – now, that last one sounds like a totally nerve-wrecking thing – and he is so different and so sympathetic when he is talking about them that she can't help but be enchanted by him.

So they just sit for hours and talk about their favorite topics, slowly getting nearer to the other and meeting halfway, and by the time they realize what's happening they have already planned a trip together to see Pompeii – the ruins and the frescoes and all.

**A/N: Please, forgive me this :) In the meantime, I am studying for my maturas, and things for my Art history exams just kept coming up while writing this :)**


	351. 349 Babushka

**349. Babushka**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 156<p>

Amongst others, I have tried learning Russian – stress on 'tried'. Languages don't fit me well. But the point is that I tried it, back in ninth grade, and I even managed to drill some words and sentences into my head.

One of the first words I learned, and surprisingly, still remember, was babushka - meaning old woman or grandmother. There even was an illustration in my textbook for this word: a kind-looking old woman, her most likely white hair tucked under a dark scarf tied under her chin, a plate of cookies in her hand. From the day I learnt that word, whenever I heard it, I always thought about that certain picture.

But then when years later I ended up in Russia, and met a real babushka – Yeva – I had to reconsider this association.

Because Yeva was anything but a sweet, kind, cookie-baking old lady. But I wouldn't have expected anything different from Dimitri's grandmother.


	352. 350 Bow Tie

**350. Bow Tie**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 190<p>

Christian hated these kinds of parties – soulless royal get-togethers, with the sole purpose of enabling the invitees to show off their designer dresses, priceless jewels and newly acquired, easy on the eyes but not so clever, way too young dates.

He didn't feel like himself - his collar was too stiff, the waistcoat was suffocating him, his tux made his skin itch, even thought it didn't even really touch him.

He still had a good ten minutes before he had to go down to the ballroom, but his instincts were already telling him to run. He knew all too well what was waiting for him: nauseating mixture of expensive perfumes and colognes, bragging, showing off. He didn't want any of it.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lissa stepped to him, concern evident on her face, reaching up to adjust his bow tie. She looked gorgeous in her long, lilac dress, a small coronet on her head. She looked every bit like the queen she was.

"Of course," he replied, leaning down to peck her on the lips. Damn, how he loved her.

That's because he endured these parties – only for her.


	353. 351 Training

**351. Training**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 283<p>

It's been only four weeks since she's been shot, but Rose is already dead set on starting to train again. To say that Dimitri is not happy about it is an understatement. True, she's out of bed, more or less able to take care of herself, is almost completely off of painkillers and is up to some light 'after bedtime activities', she not ready to get back to full time training, no matter how she insists otherwise. Dimitri is convinced about that.

But of course Rose is a stubborn creature, who carries through whatever she has come up with – and so the next morning finds her and Dimitri outside, in their training clothes.

During their warm-up running, Dimitri has only half his mind on his movements. Okay, more like one hundredth of his mind – the remaining capacity is solely devoted to keeping his eyes on Rose, ready to jump in if something happens.

But nothing happens. They run their customary two miles, and Dimitri is truly surprised that Rose can still keep up with him – true, he's taking it slow.

When they stop to catch their breaths Dimitri is just about to congratulate her on her strength and tell her how he didn't think that she could make it, when Rose raises her hand, and a little bit out of breath, she says.

"Okay, you were right," he just looks at her, startled. "Now, I am off to bed, and I am not planning on leaving it in the… oh, in the next week. You… you just go on."

And with that, limping slightly, she walks off.

Dimitri smirks to himself. Well, as it turns out, she is not that stubborn after all.

**A/N: Oh, I haven't even told you my big news, guys :) (not the big thing I mentioned a few days ago) Starting from Destined, I am the Hungarian translator of the House of Night series :D **


	354. 352 Subtle

**352. Subtle**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 190<p>

Eddie is decided on that the world is going to end. Soon.

Oh, it's not just a far-fetched theory, no, he has a proof for it – and the proof being that here he is, on his first free Saturday night since who-knows-when, in a small bar full of humans, cradling a way too warm beer and listening to, of all people, Adrian Ivashkov going on and on about his love life.

Yes, the apocalypse is certainly coming.

"I honestly don't know what else I should try, man." Adrian says, taking a sip of his drink. "I have tried getting her a gift, I have tried being charming, flirty, straightforward, hell, I have even tried being subtle about my intentions, but nothing seems to work…" Another sip.

To his credit, Eddie tries to keep a straight face thorough the monologue, but he looses it at the 'subtle' comment.

"C'mon, Ivashkov, don't kid yourself," he smirks. "You wouldn't know subtlety if it slapped you across the face!"

The look crossing Adrian's face is, without doubt, a classical death glare.

"You are not helping, Castile…"

Eddie knows. But he doesn't mind a bit.

**A/N: Okay, three things: 1, I know that I am still one drabble behind myself! I'll catch up soon, I swear :) 2, I know that technically Eddie couldn't be drinking beer with 21 being the drinking age in the USA and all (I live in Europe. We can drink at 18 :P), but it fit the situation, and let's just say that Adrian bought it for him, okay? :D And anyway, it's not like the guys in VA are so into keeping this law intact (Rose is a perfect example for it :P) and 3, it can be considered as a Bloodlines drabble, but at the same time, it doesn't have to be. The girl Adrian wants to get together can be either Rose, Sydney, or anybody else you want to come up with :)**


	355. 353 Seduction

**353. Seduction**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 334<p>

"Okay, so how did you do it?"

This guy is green, so, so green that Dimitri almost feels sorry for him. Almost, but not quiet – his greenness is still entertaining enough to prevent that.

"Did what?" He asks, not completely sure what this kid – because he is just a kid, even if he is Rose's age – wants to know about exactly; Dimitri thinks it is maybe along the lines of having killed about, well, about forty Strigoi or having come back from being undead – none of them is an easy topic for him, but because the guy is new, he'll forgive him bringing them up.

"How did you manage to woo that chick, of course!" the new guy exclaims, gesturing wildly, catching Dimitri a little bit of guard (not that anyone can see it, of course). He did not expect this. "I mean, Hathaway, she is… damn. She's a damn fine woman, just look at that…" Halfway through his sentence he realizes what he is saying and who he is saying it to, and holding his hands up defensively he takes a half-step backwards. "Sorry, okay? I got a little bit carried away. So, she's… pretty. Very pretty. You are lucky." The only reason Dimitri hasn't snapped yet is that this guy is so green. And that he is very entertaining. "But honestly, how did you seduce her?"

Well, it really is a good question, Dimitri admits.

"I don't know," he shrugs, and the new guy's spirit deflates a little. "I was just being myself, I think." And honestly, that's really all he did; after all, he didn't even want to seduce Rose in the first place. At least, not in the beginning.

"Oh, okay… well, then, see ya later," the new guy says, a little crestfallen, as he walks out of the Guardians' lounge, but Dimitri still hears him mutter to himself: "Well, how the hell am I supposed to be be Dimitri Belikov?"

Well, yes: the new Guardians are always very entertaining.

**A/N: Remember what I promised a few weeks ago? :) That I would write a one-shot whoever wrote the 1000th review – well, it happened today! :) Congrats to chimney101, 1000th reviewer of this story! :)  
>Also, I am looking for test readers – there's this little original one-shot of mine, just a little something, barely over 1000 words when it's once done. I am writing it for a short story contest, so I really wanna come up with something really good. So, when it's done (a day or two), would some of you please take a look at it, and tell me your honest opinion? Mostly I want to know if I managed to get through the main idea :)<strong>


	356. 354 Scrambled

**354. Scrambled**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 272<p>

One thing is surely can be said about Rose Hathaway: she tries, even if she has no chance of winning.

Because she is just like that; she does things she doesn't like to do, doesn't have the slightest affinity to, just to please and help her loved ones. After all, she spent two years on the run and took a bullet for her best friend, and quit her studies and risked her life on more than one occasion for the love of her life. All cases had hopeless moments, but in the end, all of them turned out to be okay.

So why wouldn't this one now?

Her burrows her brows and sticks the tip of her tongue out of her mouth in concentration. It's easy, she keeps telling herself, as she carefully adds the contents of the bowl to the ones in the saucepan.

_ It's okay, millions of people can do it, anybody can do, **you** can do it…_

"Rose?" comes a deep, slightly sleepy voice behind her back, "What are you doing?"

She only turns her head away for a moment, just to tell Dimitri that everything's okay and that he really should go back to bed, and she'll be there in a sec, but in the next moment, everything goes up in smoke.

…Figuratively _**and**_ literary.

Well, Rose Hathaway can do a lot of things: fighting Strigoi, being a badass, risking her life on daily basis – a piece of cake. But to make a simple scrambled eggs and take it to bed so her lover could have breakfast in bed on his day off – impossible.

Well, nobody is perfect.

**A/N: Hah, I said I would catch on with myself soon :P**


	357. 355 Muppets

**355. Muppets**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 274<p>

I am still a child enough to sit in front of the TV on Sunday mornings, still in my PJs, with a bowl of cereal in my hands and change to whatever cartoon I can find. Yes, I am a big, bad guardian on weekdays, but this doesn't mean that I don't want to switch my mind off from time to time and have some light entertainment.

Of course this doesn't mean that I get all kiddies' shows.

"This one is a raging lunatic," I say more like to myself than to Dimitri sitting next to me as Animal is beating his drums like a madman. Today, this first show I found was Muppets – some old reruns – and I stuck there. And I don't even like this show. "Not that any of the characters is sane, of course," I continue, while munching on my cereal. "I mean we have an exhibitionist, lovesick frog who is into an egoistical pig who dresses like a damn starlet from the forties and…"

In the next moment Fuzzie comes in and cracks a terrible joke.

And Dimitri chuckles.

He really, genuinely chuckles.

"…Okay. I don't know you," I tell him, leaning I little bit away from him. "Get off my couch."

"Your couch?" He asks, his laughing stopping. "Your couch? I'll show you whose couch it is!" He says in a mock-threatening manner as he plucks the bowl from my hands, places it on the coffee table and the next moment I am lying on my back with him hovering above me, alternating between tickling and kissing me.

Well, The Muppets aren't that bad after all, I guess.

**A/N: I saw The Muppet movie a few weeks ago – and I loved it :D Anyway, my original one-shot is done, so I ask again: would someone test-read it for me? It's not long, only 1300 words. **


	358. 356 Cheese

**356. Cheese**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 307<p>

As it turns out, there is one thing in what human and vampire high schools do not differ: they make yearbooks.

"Take a look at it, Sage," Adrian practically shows his sophomore year yearbook into my face. "I was quiet easy on the eyes even back then, wasn't I?" He takes the book away to inspect it himself, not even giving me a chance to take a good look. "Well, okay, a little bit on the skinny side, but still as handsome as ever!"

I frown; I can't decide whether I should be annoyed or amused by his antics.

"And then look at this…" He picks up another book – a guess it's from his junior year -, flipping through the pages, looking for the right page. "Here it is… no!" He flips it closes in an instant, suddenly looking flustered. "Maybe you shouldn't see it, you know, the… the light is bad, really bad, and..." He stutters.

Now, this perks my interest.

I snatch the book from his hands and open it at the right page.

One look at the picture, and I am falling backwards laughing.

The sixteen-year-old Adrian on the picture is apparently just trying to figure out how to use hair gel – and he is falling at it -, he has bags – no, suitcases! – under his eyes, a crazy grin on his face and a rather well-sized pimple on his forehead.

"I know it isn't my best, okay? And it was a bad day. And the photographer was a total asshole, and…" he stops, trying to come up with other excuses.

"You know what, Adrian?" I ask him, when I can finally control my laughter. "I have never been really happy abut being homeschooled, but it still had a great perk," I lean in, bringing the yearbook close to his face. "No embarrassing yearbooks."

**A/N: Somebody get me off Grey's Anatomy XD The Hungarian broadcaster is only at like the sixth episode of the seventh season, but about two weeks ago I found the whole season dubbed on the internet. I watched it in a week. Now I am onto the eight season, in the original language, even though I don't really like that, since I don't really get the medical lingo, but then again, I watched two episodes today. Again. I am hopeless XD **


	359. 357 Improvement

**357. Improvement**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 155<p>

From the very beginning, all Dimitri wanted to do was to help Rose improve – improve her fighting skills, her behavior, her discipline, her… well, Rose herself.

Not that she wasn't great – astounding – even before he had started working with her.

But then as they started training together, and then later started living together, it turned out that that Rose wasn't the only one who needed to improve – no, Dimitri had some serious self-restrain issues as well.

Well, actually, he only had them when Rose was concerned – because, sometimes, when she was around, he was just simply unable to keep his hands to himself.

And after that time when they were caught by _Hans_, of all people, getting hot and heavy technically in the heart of the Guardian Headquarters, he had to admit it – he really needed to do something about these issues.

_ (But this didn't mean that he was in a rush to do so.)_


	360. 358 Dance

**358. Dance**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 340<p>

Dimitri Belikov has been taught many things in his life – how to use a silver stake, how to defeat a Strigoi in mere seconds, how to command larger groups, how to handle difficult situations, how to prevent a chaos to break out, even how to bake his favorite bread, among many other things. So, yeah, we can say that Dimitri Belikov is a rather well-educated young man.

But there is one particular thing that has been always missing from his studies: dancing.

Now, up until a few months ago he had no problem with that – he is a stay-at-home kind of guy deep down, who only attends high class social events as a guardian, so he is never expected to dance.

But of course, then Rose entered his life – and what an entrance it was! And since she is more like a let's-make-the-most-of-life kind of girl, it is only natural that she loves to dance. And it is okay. The problem starts when she declares one day, when they are attending a little party that Mia has pulled together, that Dimitri is the very person she wants to dance with.

"Really, Rose, I'm not much of a dancer…" he tried to convince her, one hand massaging his neck, being a little bit shy. "But you just go on and dance. I'll be there, waiting for you, okay?" Because, really, he would be completely okay watching her dance all night, as long as he doesn't have to go out to the dance floor himself.

"Oh, c'mon, comrade, don't be such a killjoy!" She says and is already pulling him towards the dancers. He groans quietly, but follows her anyway.

There is a slow, pleasant song playing when they reach to dance floor, and before he realizes, Rose has already placed his hands around her waist, while her arms are encircling his neck, her head resting against his chest and they are swaying gently to the soft music…

And that's the moment when Dimitri realizes that dancing isn't that bad after all.


	361. 359 Lord Ozera

**359. Lord Ozera**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 257<p>

Lucas Ozera had always been a pleasant man; a little harsh and maybe too honest from time to time, but he was a decent man.

All in his life, he did everything at the exact time and the exact way he was supposed to. He went to college, took care of the family business and got married when the time came – he chose a Conta girl, not only because he loved her, but because she was a royal, too, and he just couldn't afford to marry anybody. Then, they had a baby and they raised him the way they had been taught of how to raise a royal Moroi.

He did everything under the watchful, never tiring eyes of his family.

But then, of course, he and his wife decided to become Strigoi. It was a shock to everyone – Lucas and Moira, Strigoi? On their own wills! What selfish, horrible, cruel creatures they were! What luck that they were killed before they could have given in to their bloodlust! And their son, what a pity!...

Soon, everyone forgot what a nice man Lucas once had been, and started to remember only to his harshness – because they wanted to have a reason why he would have chosen such a way to exist. They wanted to blame something – someone.

But the royals forgot one thing: their own part in the story. Because who would have thought that the main reason behind the Ozeras' decision was to get rid of the ever growing need of being a good enough royal?

**A/N: Big thanks for this chapter to the Vampire Academy Wikia – I knew that the names of Christian's parents were mentioned somewhere, but I had no idea where to look. Anyway, I don't know if Moira was a Conta – I can only guess that she was, too, a royal, so I chose a family for her :) If anyone knows which family she was actually from (I mean, it could be in the Guide, but I haven't read that) please tell me, and I'll correct it :)**


	362. 360 Queen Vasilisa

**360. Queen Vasilisa**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 280<p>

"Miss Montgomery, come to blackboard, please," the teacher says, and the girl called stands up slowly, shyly. She didn't really have time to learn the material yesterday. She flipped it through, yes, but she wouldn't dare to say that she actually knows it.

Not that she would ever admit it to her teacher.

"Now, miss Montgomery, what do you know about Queen Vasilisa?"

The girl swallows hard.

"Queen Vasilisa was born in…" a short break; she has to put the information together in her head. "…in 1990, to Eric and Rhea Dragomir. She was their second child, but after the death of her parents and older brother, she became the last living Dragomir…" Another pause.

"Are you sure about that?" her teacher's voice is sharp; she is not satisfied with what she is hearing.

"Yes, I… I mean, no, she had a half sister, an illegitimate daughter, who…"

"Thank you, miss Montgomery, that'll be enough of her family history. Now, what do you know about her reign?"

"Her reign, well… she took the throne in 2008, after the assassination of Queen Tatiana. She reigned until her death in…" She couldn't remember. "So, until her death. Her main goal was to achieve equality between Moroi and dhampirs. She was the first to give dhampirs a say in the council in…" _Oh, those damn dates!_

"That'll be enough, thank you miss Montgomery, please, sit down for now, but I want to speak with you when the class is over." The girl mumbles a thanks, and then head hung, she stalks back to her desk. "Now, who can tell me something else about Queen Vasilisa?"

A dozen hands are raised to the air.

**A/N: Hah, I finally finished Grey's Anatomy! :D Now, I'll only have to wait a few days until the next episode :P**


	363. 361 Jeans

**361. Jeans**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 301<p>

Sydney is only half-surprised when, on the first day of her kind-of-forced stay at the Moroi Court, Rose barges into her room completely uninvited and unexpected.

"Good morning, Sunshine," she teases, but Sydney forgives her the moment she sees the large mug of coffee in Rose's hand. That girl is a lifesaver. "I got your schedule," she shoves a stack of papers into her hands, "some energy," the mug goes into her other hand, "and a little gift." And with that Rose pushes a paper bag into her already full hands. "I guess, since we are playing on my field right now, maybe you should try following my rules for once." Rose says, with an unforgivable amount of cheerfulness and 'awakeness' at such an early hour.

Sydney's not even awake enough yet to answer Rose in proper sentences, let alone to put together what Rose is saying, so she only peers into the bag without any further questions.

It holds a pair of tight, dark jeans.

Sydney swallows.

"Rose… thanks, really, it was… really thoughtful you and all, but…"

"Hey, stop it now," Rose grabs her wrist gently, just to make her stop talking. "It's just a pair of jeans. It won't kill you to put them on. You really should let yourself have some slack sometimes, Sydney. Let's start with it – you know, baby steps," she even has the audacity to smile.

Sydney gives up; it's way too damn early to argue with Rose Hathaway. So she only grunts and sipping from her coffee (_heavens above_…), she makes her way to the bathroom to change.

Much to her surprise, Sydney has to admit that jeans aren't that bad after all. They are kind of comfy and… sexy and they even make Adrian Ivashkov turn around when she walks by him.

**A/N: Less than an hour until midnight and I still haven't gotten started on my paper for advanced Lit…**


	364. 362 Duster

**362. Duster**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 261<p>

I have never given much thought about Dimitri's duster. I mean, of course, I always tease him about his love for it – man, he wouldn't even take a step without it! -, but really, that's it. It is a part of him, a part I have accepted and learned to love. It's just so… Dimitri. Dimitri Belikov wouldn't even be Dimitri Belikov without his duster, at least in my opinion.

But apart from that, I never got why loves it that much.

Up until now.

This afternoon we had some problems with the heating in our apartment, and by the time we got home, it was already quite chilly inside. Dimitri, being the man of the household, declared that he would find the janitor right away and get the problem fixed. I just nodded and let him go and handle this. I was pretty tired after all.

But the fact that he'd left also meant that I was alone, with no-one to snuggle up to in the chilly apartment. So I chose the second best option to keep myself from freezing – I looked for something thick and warm. And I found the suitable piece of clothing in no time – Dimitri's duster, carelessly left on the arm of the sofa. I slipped it on without a second thought.

It was heaven.

It was warm – partially because he was wearing it only a few minutes ago, the worn leather surprisingly soft, and the whole thing smelled like him…

I snuggled into the cushions, sighing contently.

Oh, he wasn't going to get it back.

A/N: A while ago I convinced myself that I wasn't interested in Succubus Blues, but then today I took a little detour the to bookshop with the librarian of my dorm (I brought back a book, and when she saw me she said that I looked a little worn out and that I could use a little break – and she was just going to ran a quick errand to the bookshop, wouldn't I like to join her? I did) and I found the Hungarian edition there – it came out a few weeks ago. I read the first page and man, I want to read it :) I just simply love Richelle's style! :)


	365. 363 French

**363. French**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 192<p>

It's no secret that Adrian Ivashkov is quiet a womanizer and it's also a pretty much well-known fact that he has already had a two-digit number of lovers (and he is cheeky enough to be proud of it). Lesser known thing is that he is rather into fine, sexy lingerie.

…Now, we shouldn't get wrong ideas: I don't mean that he likes to wear them; it's just that he loves to admire them on ladies. Preferably from a rather small distance.

He also has his opinion on all styles and shapes of female underwear and the women who wear them: anybody who wears granny panties doesn't worth the effort to ask for another tryst. Girls in boy cuts are tough and challenging, but usually not very feminine. The ones parading in almost-nothing thongs are sexy all, but mostly one-timers. They are just too easy.

But the ones in French knickers – especially if those panties are made of lace – are the best. The are sexy and feminine and soft and challenging and they make him want more. Yes, French knickers are his favorite.

Now, he only wonders what kind of underwear Sage prefers…

A/N: Okay, so Adrian is a little bit perverted, but we love him anyway, don't we? :D


	366. 364 Cuisine

**364. Cuisine**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 231<p>

Russian cuisine was a very divisive thing. Everybody had their opinion on it and these opinions were rather various.

Dimitri was all about it. After all, he hailed from Siberia and he grew up eating traditional Russian food. Those flavors and smells of Russian speciliaties meant his home, his childhood to him.

Rose was a little bit careful about it at first – after all, who knew what was in it? –, but a few weeks spent at the Belikovs' being fed by Olena – who was, let's be honest, an exceptional chef – taught her a lesson: Russian cuisine wasn't at all that bad.

Lissa has never given too much thought about it. For her, Russian food meant social functions she had to attend, since they were usually served there. She would have minded to eat it everyday, but once in a while, it was okay.

Sydney liked challenge, as well as she liked to try out new things and to rule the situation she was in. If this meant that she had to know what the people were eating around her when she was located in Russia, she would do that. She had no problem with it, just as she had no problem with Russian food. It was okay (after all, it was just _food_) and it was a challenge.

Adrian? He wouldn't have touched it if he was paid for it.


	367. 365 Volcano

**365. Volcano**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 183<p>

This didn't start yesterday, nor on the day she took the crown – no, it had begun a long time ago.

When she was first crowned queen, Tatiana took great care to study the history of Moroi, dhampir and Strigoi – and what she learned did not ease her mind.

Moroi building a fort around themselves made of dhampirs, expecting them to die for their masters, but not shedding a tear when it happened. Dhampirs running away, letting Moroi go unprotected, because they wanted their much-earned freedom, yet they were too powerless to fight for it. Moroi and dhampirs giving up life and becoming Strigoi to escape from this madness – it was all down in the history books.

When Tatiana first took the throne, she vowed herself to change this. She wanted peace.

…And now, years later, she was nowhere. The relationship between Moroi and dhampirs was becoming fragile, the first, in fear, wanting to use, to force the other, the second wanting equality, while the Strigoi were a bigger threat than ever…

Tatiana was sitting on an active volcano, waiting for it to erupt.


	368. 366 Kiss and Tell

**365. Kiss and Tell**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 209<p>

Sydney is curious by nature; she can't help it. She wants to know the hows and the whys, as well as the wheres and the whens.

And to make matters worse, the question which has been dominating her mind in these past few days is _How many?_

She is insecure, that's why she wants to know it so badly. She is not used to be in a relations, let alone with a vampire (a Moroi, she reminds herself; it does matter what kind of vampire) and she wants to be sure that it means something, that she is not just being played with.

She wants to know how many girls – Moroi, dhampir, _even human_, alike – were there before her. If they meant anything.

Of course she knows that right before her there was Rose, and that it was pretty serious. And she also knows that he's a flirt, and that he has had one-night stands. Maybe a lot.

…She suspects that it will hurt, but she has to know.

When she finally questions him about it Adrian merely smiles.

"Oh, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, you, of all people, should know it," he teases and leaning down, he kisses her.

…There have been many. But they don't matter.


	369. 367 Eyeliner

**367. Eyeliner**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 217<p>

Her hands are trembling.

_It's no big deal, it's no big deal, it's no big deal_… she keeps telling herself, but it doesn't work.

It _is_ a big deal.

It's the day of her coronation.

Today, everything changes. She ceases being a princess and becomes queen.

Queen Vasilisa.

It's maddening.

She raises the eyeliner to her eyelid – she can do it herself, she doesn't need cosmeticians to do it for her, she desperately clings to this small part of her old life, this small piece of independence…

Her hand slips, drawing a black line to her temple.

"Damn…" she swears; she knows that it's very impolite, but she can't help it.

"Need some help?" Comes an amused voice from the door.

Rose. Calm, collected, almost cheerful.

She doesn't trust her voice, so only nods.

Rose walks to her, takes the eyeliner from her hand, crouches in front of her, cleans her mess and with a steady hand, she draws a perfect line. She repeats with Lissa's other eye.

"Here you go, your Highness. You are all prep'd and ready," she smiles and already turns to leave.

She doesn't need to say anything else; even with the Bond broken, they understand each other perfectly. They will be always there for each other.

Suddenly, Lissa's hands don't tremble anymore.


	370. 368 Hidden

**368. Hidden**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 167<p>

Somehow, Lissa has always known that something was… not right with her.

Ever since she was a small child, she was different. Back then she couldn't pinpoint out what was wrong with her – she just felt different. Then as she grew, she started to understand her place in the world better – which, in turn, no matter what a paradox it is, made her even more confused.

She couldn't specialize. She could do things no-one else could. She was weak, yet powerful. She was… she didn't know.

So she did the best thing she could come up with – she hid all her strangeness deep within her soul – just until the day she could figure out what was going on with her.

But of course, life stood in her way: once she was ready to come out to the world, to tell them that she was a spirit user, it were the others who told her to keep calm and quiet.

So her abilities, her true self, remained hidden.

**A/N: Soon, very soon, my class is going to drive me crazy… (And in a bad way…)**


	371. 369 Scent

**369. Scent**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 185<p>

Adrian Ivashkov was a scent man. I mean, of course, he donated a large portion of his attention to certain parts of the female anatomy, but the final deciding factor for him when it came to choosing girls was their scent.

He liked unique, spicy, yet feminine scents, not entirely masked by perfumes. Scents that screamed challenge to him. Scents that told him that their wearer was worth his time.

Her scent was the first thing that drawn him to Rose. She was definitely a challenge – even from sniffing the air around her he could tell that she was a fiery, passionate creature and it intrigued him. It's a shame that in the end it didn't work out between them.

And now, here's this human girl, this alchemist. She is kind of annoying, always so uptight and trying to boss him around, and yet, he is almost – _almost_ - mesmerized by her. Her scent is not the certain kind that usually drives him crazy, but he can feel that there's something special about her.

And he can't wait to get a good sniff of her…


	372. 370 Jellybean

**370. Jellybean**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 272<p>

This guy was driving her crazy.

Because no, Adrian Ivashkov wouldn't go anywhere – to the store, to school, to a formal event – without making sure that he looked perfect first. Honestly, Sydney swore to herself, he spent more time on his appearance than she did.

Just like now: the four of them – Jill, Eddie, Adrian and herself – should have left about ten minutes ago, but mister I-have-to-look-ready-to-charm-the-ladies was still fixing his hair (and Sydney was ready to fix it for him, to – by shaving him bald). But just as she was ready to burst into the bath and drag him out by his collar, Adrian stepped into the room.

"Now, how I look?" He was cheeky enough to grin.

Sydney was just about to tell him to… well, to tell him some colorful things, but as she looked at him – really looked at him – she forgot what she'd wanted to see.

…Alright, so he did look good, but this didn't mean that it had to mess her thoughts up.

She shook her head, and blurted out the first remotely offending thing that came to her mind.

"You are such… such a Jellybean!" And with that she turned around and stormed out of the room. Adrian remained standing there in the middle of the room, mouth slightly agape.

"I don't really get it," he said, turning to Eddie, "was she trying to tell me that I look sweet, or what?"

The young guardian only shrugged, trying to contain his laughter.

"I don't know, but it sounded like an insult to me."

"Oh…" Adrian said nonchalantly, "but I still bet that she likes me."

**A/N: Okay, so what was it? Sometimes, I Google up the day's word – when I don't really get the word, or when I am looking for inspiration. I did it today, and found a really interesting passage on Wikipedia under Jellybean: _in United States slang in the 1910s and early 1920s a "Jellybean" or "Jelly-Bean" was a young man who dressed stylishly to attract women but had little else to recommend him_ – and I immediately thought of Adrian :D What even more interesting is, that a later-used phrase for the same meaning is "drugstore cowboy" :P**


	373. 371 Drums

**371. Drums**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 194<p>

His heartbeat in his ears is like a tribal song, the beat of the drums shaking his very being.

Of course, over the years, Dimitri has mastered his poker face – no matter how close Rose is to him as they run next to each other, no matter how her scent is driving him crazy as they are sparring, their hands and legs and chests touching, he doesn't show it. He can't show it.

It's wrong, he knows it is, but he can't help it. And he doesn't even want to.

He's never felt like this before. There were girls, of course, but he didn't feel like this for either of them. It's… Heaven.

…And Hell, at the same time, because it's wrong and it's maddening and he can't do anything about it. All he can do is to long for her.

The drums in his ears are picking up the rhythm, sounding louder and louder every time she's with him, telling him, urging him to do something, to break the barrier between them, to do something, to grab her, to embrace her, to kiss her…

…But he is holding on. At least for now.

**A/N: So this day has come – this story is a year old today :) I'd like to thank you for your continuous support and love :) I promise I'll continue this story as long as you want me to :) I know I have been a little bit sloppy with updates lately (even now, I am one drabble behind myself), but please, forgive me this. It's my high school graduation a week from now, what will be immediately followed with my toughest exams so far, and to top it all, I am neck deep in school and personal drama (cough*retartdedclassmates*cough), so please, be patient with. I hope I'll be back on the wagon once I'm done with my written exams (May 7-8-9-10-17th), I also hope to be able to write something bigger then :)**


	374. 372 Duty

**372. Duty**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 155<p>

Duty - it was always Janine's excuse.

She was a guardian, and she knew her place in the world. She'd made a vow to serve and protect her charge and she wasn't about to let them down.

Abe only laughed at her; in his eyes, being a guardian was only a job. He thought that a guardian could quit anytime they wanted, or get a new employer. And he was all for employing Janine, if she was so hell-bent on not giving up being a guardian.

Janine only frowned upon the suggestion – it wouldn't work, she said. It was madness.

Their relationship was madness.

And then Rose came along, and 'duty' became Abe's excuse.

They were parents. They had duty for their daughter. They were ought to stick together, to be there for Rose.

But Janine only looked away from him and walked away.

She knew her duty as a guardian, but as… a mother?


	375. 373 Voice

**373. Voice**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 157<p>

It all started with a single touch, a millisecond of skin on skin contact.

Her hand on his chest.

It all went downhill from that.

A little, persistent voice, sounding from the very depth of his existence, kept urging him, tell him to go ahead, to kiss and touch and taste and explore and feel. Some rational part of his mind knew that this was all wrong and that he should stop and send her back to her room, but all reason was drowned in the voice of his deepest desires.

Kiss.

Touch.

Taste.

Feel.

And he did all of that.

Hs lips moved all over her lips, her neck, her collarbone, hands roaming along her sides, feeling the soft curves underneath, tongue darting out, tasting salty sweat on her skin, feeling, with her chest pressed to his, her heartbeat quicken, like a hummingbird's wings against his skin…

There was no stopping, not now, not ever.

"Roza…"


	376. 374 Picture

**374. Picture**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

If there was a perfect moment, that was it.

There they were, snuggled close to each other under the quilt, Dimitri's hands around her waist, Rose's head on his shoulder. They were supposed to be watching TV, an old western in particular – one of his favorites –, but thirty minutes into it, Rose had dozed off.

He could have woken her, or at least moved her to their bed, but he just couldn't make himself to do it. So, instead, he'd just simply pulled the quilt closer, buried his nose in her hair, and dividing his attention between the film and Rose's very being, her scent and her slender body snuggled next to his, he remained sitting there, completely at ease, completely happy.

If only he had a camera with him right then, it would have been the perfect moment to take a picture of.


	377. 375 Notepad

**375. Notepad**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 147<p>

It's hopeless.

Lissa is resting her head on her hands, elbows on the mahogany tabletop; pen in hand, a notepad in front of her, its pages offending her with their pure whiteness.

Crumpled, rolled up, ink-stained pages are lying all around her on the hard-wood floor.

It's hopeless.

Being queen is one thing. Delivering public speeches is a completely different business.

Usually, she doesn't have any problem with addressing the crowds, but now… the words simply aren't coming; her mind is stubborn and silent.

Two days; this speech is has to be done in two days.

She can't. She just simply can't.

She sighs and lifts her pen, so it's hanging only millimeters from the blank page. She presses the tip down and starts to write, with cursive calligraphy.

But she will. It won't be the first time when she beats the impossible.

**A/N: I rarely transfer my current problems to my writing (the only other time I remember doing this was when a dear friend of my family's died, and I wrote a RENT fanfic – So Sudden – based on the experience), but I am doing it now: my high school graduation is on Saturday, and I am class valedictorian – and I only have one paragraph of my speech so far… **


	378. 376 Trampoline

**376. Trampoline**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 240<p>

Do you remember, when you were a child, and your parents took you to the fair, and there was a trampoline, and you asked and begged and threw a fit, until your parents fished out some money from their pockets so you could jump up and down for a few minutes?

And do you member how it felt like? The way up, up, so up high, the feel of flying, then the journey back to the rubber surface, the free fall, and then the impact, and then flying up again?

Well, I do. Only, it was juts my mother for me, and it happened only once. I was maybe five, and she made some time visit me. She didn't do it very often. I remember being happy.

Back then, the trampoline meant only the joy of jumping for me; now that I am almost an adult, now, that I want to consider myself an adult, I see it in a different light.

The trampoline is a lot like life. You have great times: when you are flying in the air; you have bad times: when you fall, fall, until you hit the surface; and then the vicious circle starts again. Up and down; up and down.

And it also teaches you a lesson: if you fall on your butt, you have to stand up quickly, otherwise you'll get jumped on and end up broken and bruised.

Just like in life.


	379. 377 Hot Air Balloon

**377. Hot Air Balloon**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 196<p>

I eyed the pile of dirty clothes that had been steadily growing during the last week.

It was not at all a pleasant sight.

And it was my turn to do the laundry this week. I groaned.

"What's the problem?" Lissa stuck her head to the washroom. We had been on the run for nearly a year now, but it still hadn't really dawned upon her how much I despised household chores.

…Or she had simply chosen to act like she hadn't known. After all, knowing the inner workings of her mind, I had a pretty clear picture of how amusing she found me during situations like this.

"Nothin'", I said, not taking my gaze away from the slightly-smelling clothing. "I am just thinking about what we could do with this stuff."

Lissa followed my gaze.

"I don't know…" She teased, "Maybe you could wash them?"

I groaned again.

"Liss, you1re a real killjoy here, with next to nothing imagination."

"Why, what's your suggestion, what should we do with it?" She stepped next to me, looking at me expectantly. I returned her gaze sheepishly.

"Well… I guess we could sew a hot air balloon using them?"

A/N: I had my graduation yesterday – and my matura exams start tomorrow. I am really scared and worried guys! Please, send me some positive thoughts!

On the upside: I got an award from my school ("Teleki Talent" – Teleki is the name of my school – memorial coin, the second biggest award my school has), and I also got an award from my dorm last week ("For The Dormitory" memorial plaque, the greatest award my dorm has). And as a graduation gift, I got a wacom tablet from my parents :) I have never really tried digital drawing before, but I sure will learn it now :)


	380. 378 Picnic

**378. Picnic**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 234<p>

Paperwork was getting on Lissa's nerves.

It was unimaginable how much reading and signing being a queen entailed. It was like she hadn't been doing anything in the last two weeks since she'd been crowned aside from going through endless piles of papers.

She was getting enough; her eyes were hurting, her head was aching, and she was pretty sure that her pen would fall out of her grasp any minute.

That was the moment when her savior came.

"May I disturb you highness?" The words coming from the door of her office were polite, but the tone was downright snarky, teasing.

It was Christian standing at the doorway.

"It depends," Lissa replied, a small smile gracing her lips. "What do you want, my dear subject?"

"Oh, nothing big, you highness," he smirked, stepping up to her desk, gently prying the pen from her hand. "I am only planning to kidnap you." By then he was standing behind her and gently helping her up from her seat. "But don't worry; I plan to return you to your duties soon. In a few hours. Okay, maybe in a day or two. But at first – there's a blanket and a basket of food out in the courtyard with our names on it, so let's hurry up, my dear queen, before our chicken gets cold."

Lissa just chuckled at him; she just simply loved days like these.


	381. 379 Sprinkles

**379. Sprinkles**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 211<p>

It's not that Janine has never tried to be a good mom. She has.

When Rose was very little, it was hard. She was practically living on the other side of the globe that time, and even tough she tried to call her daughter several times, what could she have been talking about with a three-year-old, who had technically no idea of who was at the other end of the line?

But Janine tried; when Rose was turning five, she was close enough to visit her, and she really, really planned on doing that. She hadn't seen Rose since she had been a baby of six months, and by then Janine's heart was physically aching to hold her daughter in her arms again.

She even tried to bake a cake for her. She had never baked anything before, but Rose, she assumed, worth a try.

It ended up in a disaster. The sponge cake fell apart, the cream burned, the whipped cream ran down, and her whole kitchenette was covered in sprinkles by the time she finished baking.

Then, looking down at the crippled birthday cake, she didn't know how and why, but for the first time in nearly five years, Janine started crying.

She never made it to Rose's birthday.


	382. 380 Sleeping

**380. Sleeping**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 280<p>

Most nights, Dimitri loved sleeping next to Rose. Most nights – but not all.

Because usually Rose was a peaceful sleeper; she would fall asleep easily, find a comfortable position and wouldn't make a noise or move around until next morning, and even then, she would only stir enough to snuggle up to him. But then there were some nights when she just wouldn't keep still.

She would toss and turn constantly in her sleep, sometimes moaning and sighing, and some nights even _snoring_. She would hog the blanket, pull the sheets from under him and sometimes even kick him in the shin – and he was lucky if she managed to reach only that.

Oh, she was not having nightmares; waking her a few times during these nights made him sure of that. She was simply… active during these times.

For months, he just simply tried to deal with it and sleep anyway. It didn't work. Then, he tried to sleep on the couch – because he didn't dare to go as far as waking her… - but it didn't work either, because he was tall and the couch was small and Rose was confused in the morning.

Then, after about six months of this nocturnal torture, he found the perfect solution for this little problem.

When Rose started tossing around during the night, he would just simply put his arms around her lithe body and pull her close, keeping her snuggled up to his chest, close enough so she wouldn't be able to turn around.

And – what a miracle -, embraced by him, she remained completely still thorough the night.

And Dimitri was finally able to get his much deserved sleep.

**A/N: Two down, three more to go. Hungarian exam was a torture, but Math today was surprisingly easy. It's History tomorrow and I am scared. After that it's only English and Art, but those two are two pieces of cake :)**


	383. 381 Eyelash

**381. Eyelash**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

We can't say that Christian didn't like make-up – on girls, let's point that out, before anyone gets any bad ideas. After all, it did make girls look pretty; it made their skin more pearl-like, their mouths lush and kissable red, their eyes big and mesmerizing.

So, yes, he really did like make-up; only, he didn't understand some products.

For example mascara. Especially on Lissa.

In his opinion, Lissa's eyes were perfect the way they were, in every aspect: color, shape, size… Her eyelashes were great, too: long, heavy, slightly curled, true, they were just as fair colored as her hair.

But it didn't mean, in Christian's opinion, that they had to be coated in the sticky, black paint. He liked them the way Lissa was born with.

…Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to comment on it. He had learned it a long time ago: never, ever argue over the use of make-up products with women. You'd lose anyway.


	384. 382 Snowflakes

**382. Snowflakes**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 188<p>

It amazes Sydney that, after a few months spent in Palm Springs, the thing she misses the most from her old life is snow.

It's the end of November now, and it's still warm outside; no signs of chill, let alone snow. Exactly a year ago in Russia, during her stay there, Saint Petersburg was already covered in a soft layer of snow. It was cold, and it bothered her, but it was also kind of beautiful.

And now, she misses it.

She tries not to show it, but apparently, somebody has noticed this and decided to do something about it, because as she enters her dorm room on a Friday afternoon, she has to stop for a moment at the doorway and mouth agape, stare at the interior of the room.

Her bed in covered in a soft, white blanket; delicate, cut-out snowflakes are hanging from the ceiling on fishing line; the window is covered in fake frost.

She giggles – actually giggles – and throws herself onto the soft blanket, sighing happily.

She doesn't know who did this for her, but Adrian winks at her the next day.


	385. 383 Dark

**383. Dark**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

Paul has human friends, friends he likes to spend time with, especially during the lazy summer days, when there is no school, no chores at home, nothing, but sweet freedom.

The only problem is that his human friends think that he is a baby, because… because he is afraid of the dark. And it's true – as soon as the Sun touches the horizon, he runs home, the boys' yelling taunting him.

_ Just go home, little baby, hide behind your mom's skirt! You're such a candyass, I am sure you still wet your bed!_

He tries to let their voice fly past him. And what if he is afraid of the dark, while they are not?

At least he knows what really is hiding in the dark…


	386. 384 Pebble

**384. Pebble**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 210<p>

It's still dark out there – it's barely after curfew -, Dimitri's on patrol, and he is just unable to get Rose out of his head.

The fact that there is still light in her window doesn't help at all.

When he looks up, he can almost see her; she's still awake. It would take nothing to let her know that he is there, that he is waiting for her, that he wants her to come down to him, or better still, let him come up. All he would have to do is to pick up a pebble from the ground and throw it to her window. It really would be nothing; it would only take a few seconds.

She would be startled by the noise and would open the window to see what happened. When she would see him, she would smile, and he would smile back. His heart swells at the thought and he is already reaching for a pebble.

…But he can't. He knows he can't, that what he wants is wrong, several degrees wrong. She is so young, so amazing, so naïve, so forbidden…

He tears his gaze away from her window and starts to walk away, kicking into the pebble that could have been his savior.


	387. 385 Steak

**385. Steak**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 296<p>

For their first real date – how she has come to it, to date a vampire, Sydney doesn't know – Adrian takes her to a fancy restaurant.

It starts off rather awkwardly – he tries to initiate some small-talk, but she just simply can't reciprocate; she is way too embarrassed (_it's her first date_) and ashamed (_and it's with a vampire_) to truly enjoy the moment, so her part in the conversation is narrowed to noncommittal "u-hm" sounds.

It's a good half an hour into their date and they have their noses in their menus – she has no idea what to order; it would look weird if she'd only asked for a salad, but she really doesn't want to eat anything heavier – when a waitress approaches them. She, at the end, picks something randomly (she can only hope it's something good), eager for the waitress to leave them alone. In contrast to her, Adrian takes his time, asking questions, flirting a little – not as much as he usually does, Sydney gives him that – and finally, asks for a steak.

A well done steak.

Sydney's eyes go wide in surprise.

"What?" Adrian chuckles, quiet amused.

"Nothing, really, it's just… since you are, you know…" she stutters, not wanting to say the word _vampire_ out loud, "So I thought that you would want a rare one."

A dangerous grin finds its way to Adrian's face, the one Sydney knows will only lead to a witty comment, mostly about something sex-related, so, to prevent it, she says:

"Oh, don't you even say a word, or else…"

She gets only this far; then she looks into his eyes, and finally comprehends the whole situation, the absurdity and the beauty of it, and suddenly starts to laugh.

Their date goes rather well from that.

**A/N: Since I have been quiet on and off considering my drabbles in the last few days, I decided to make it to you with a double update today :) Other stuff: my written exams are almost over (I have only one left, Art, this Thursday), which means that I have a little bit more time now, which I want to use for writing (I haven't written anything serious since March!). I have a little lemony Makorra one-shot in my mind, as well as a few tiny ideas for Zutara fics, and I haven't forgotten about the award one-shot either! :) So be prepared, I'll be back on track soon :)**


	388. 386 Junkie

**386. Junkie**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 148<p>

If anybody asked, Adrian was no addict.

Sure, he drank, and not small amounts either, but he had a reason. And it was not like he was completely drunk twenty-four per seven; no, he had his clear moments. And if he wanted, he could have gone days without alcohol. And his liver was in a perfect condition as well, thank you very much.

And yes, he smoked. Not weed, or any funny stuff, just everyday clove cigarettes (they smelled better anyway), and okay, he depended on – liked them more than he liked alcohol, but still, he could have put down cigarettes any time he wanted.

So no, he was no addict.

But then Rose came – and then she went. And between the beginning and the end of their short lived love-story, he pretty much became a Rose-junkie.

And it was even more dangerous than any kind of drug.

**A/N: It's been a while since I wrote an "Adrian pinning after Rose"-drabble – recently, all my Adrian-drabbles are centered around Sydney :P Anyway, about cigarettes: both my parents are heavy smokers, and even though they never smoke inside the house, I hate the smell of the smoke – but once I was offered a clove cigarette by one of my friends (I didn't take it), and I have to say, those stuff really doesn't smell half that bad as average cigarettes (Not that I would ever smoke). **


	389. 387 Skin

**387. Skin**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 124<p>

Dimitri Belikov was professional.

By the time he was twenty-five he already had a reputation of a dependable, competent and excellent Guardian with a pretty imposing amount of Strigoi kill (even though he had spent four months of his life as a Strigoi himself). He remained calm in almost every situation, let it be a fight with a dozen of Strigoi, or a face off with the Moroi council. His martial skills, swiftness and strength were already legendary.

Some called him a God. Others believed that he would be the next Arthur Schoenbeg.

Yes, he was, without doubt, a professional.

But then again, professionals shouldn't get turned on by an inch-width skin of their lover's lower back showing.

Especially not during a Guardian meeting.


	390. 388 Muscle

**388. Muscle**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

Dimitri had never really cared for how he looked; whether he was attractive or not. Sure, he knew that he was tall and that tallness usually appealed to girls. He was also aware of that he had a quite handsome, masculine face, not that it meant anything. And yes, years of training left its mark on his body, too: he had nice abs and everything.

So yeah, he knew that generally he was considered what Americans called 'hot'. Not that it meant anything; it didn't make him better at his job.

…And anyway, love shouldn't be based on appearances.

But as Rose looks at him, her hands roaming on his chest, her yes full of awe and love, he has to admit to himself: he doesn't mind at all his appearance.


	391. 389 Bone

**389. Bone**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Yeva knew all the old crones in the neighborhood, as well as their rumor mills. If you wanted to know if Pavel Fedotov cheated on his wife – and with whom -, all you had to do was to sit with them on the bench in front of their houses for a few minutes, and you already knew your answer, as well as the ancient women's whole life story.

Yeva had no problem with it – if somebody was seeking knowledge like this, it was their business, not hers. Her problems started when townspeople started to think of her as one of those ladies.

It was completely, utterly ridiculous, she thought as she – as if she was protesting – sat down on their porch alone, a good distance from the 'rumor mill' and started on her knitting, frowning all along.

Well, maybe those hags could feel the change in the weather in their bones; but she could feel the change of one's destiny in hers.

**A/N: Okay, three things: one, my new kind-of-Zutara one-shot, Conversations Over Tea is up! :) Two, this drabble was kind of inspired by my dad's aunt and her village. She lives in this really small place in the country, rather from the capitol, and even though nothing is really 'modern' down there, it's really peaceful. And the old ladies really do sit in front of their house in the evenings to talk :) Three, this Pavel (Andrejevich) Fedotov was a romantic painter – my head is full of stuff like this right now: it's my Arts matura tomorrow….**


	392. 390 Truce

**390. Truce**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

They weren't friends, not even close. They respected each other, true, but they avoided each other if they could.

They were opposites in many aspects – one of them a playboy, a royal Moroi, who took everything in life easily, the other a warrior, a lowly dhampir, who took everything too seriously. But there was one thing that connected them – they loved the same woman.

And that woman was the one who made them work together – because she was in danger. If they wanted to know her in safe, if they wanted to get her back, they had to cooperate.

So they did, even if not that willingly.

The one who connected them was also the one who sparked the hate between them. Under different circumstances they might have even be friends.


	393. 391 Cake

**391. Cake**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 212<p>

Somewhere deep inside, Sydney knew this was coming – the day when she would meet Adrian's parents.

Also known as Doom's Day.

She sat there, in the – in her opinion, over-decorated – dining room, opposite of Adrian's mother – oh, dear God, what was her name? She was so nervous she couldn't even remember it – who tried to keep her poker face as straight as she could, while, on her right, Adrian's father technically shot daggers at her from his eyes.

_ It's a piece of cake, it's a piece of cake, it's a piece of cake…_

That was her mantra – that was also the sentence Adrian had muttered to her right before they had arrived. He had said that it would be a piece of cake.

Well, for him at least, it seemed like it was. Obvious to the fact that his parents were a little bit less than welcoming towards his newest girlfriend, he kept teasing them and joking around.

Sydney picked at her food – finally the dessert, thank God; this torture would be over soon– and raised a bite-sized bit of her chocolate cake to her mouth.

Of course, it landed on her – until that point, perfectly immaculate – dress. She groaned in spite of herself.

Yeah, it was definitely a piece of cake…


	394. 392 Mondays

**392. Mondays**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 129<p>

Most likely, the passage any kind of encyclopedia has on Mondays looks something like this: '_First day of the week according to the Georgian calendar._' But in Adrian Ivashkov's opinion, it should be penned somehow like this: '_Devilish invention, created with the sole purpose of punishing us for our weekend antics. Popular and oft-used torture device._'

Honestly, if he will ever have enough money to publish an encyclopedia – which is quite likely -, and if he can ever muster up enough strength to leave this bed (preferably in this century) – which is less likely -, he swears, he will put together one where the definition of Monday will speak the truth: that Mondays – especially Monday mornings – are evil.

But until then, he'll just lie there, wallowing in his hangover.

**A/N: I couldn't resist it :P Legend of Korra reference :P**


	395. 393 Fridays

**393. Fridays**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 179<p>

Somehow - it turned out in the three months since she had been Queen - Fridays were her lazy days: they were too well into the week for proposing new problems and ideas, but not yet weekend enough for galas and state dinners. So it's no wonder that Friday soon ended up being Lissa's favorite day.

Usually, she finished her duties by early-mid afternoon, and had the remaining of the day to her expense. She could have gone out – go to a party (with proper protection, of course), go a little bit wild to get rid of the steam, or she could have even arranged her time in a way that she could have gone to a mall or something to shop.

But to be honest, by Friday Lissa was usually so spent that even the mention of going out made her cringe.

Instead of getting all fancy and stressing out a dozen of Guardians, she'd simply choose stay in, get into PJs, then watch a movie snuggled close to Christian.

Usually, she dozed off halfway through the movie.


	396. 394 Weekend

**394. Weekend**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 248<p>

Rose groaned, resting her face (and possibly getting ink on her cheek, since her pen was running) on the report she should have been writing.

"It's Saturday."

Opposite of her, Eddie snorted.

"Believe it or not, I am completely aware of it." He answered, not even looking up from his own form.

"It's weekend," Rose continued, not even registering her friend's sarcasm, "And we are rotting here in the office."

Now it was Eddie's turn to sigh; he put down his pen and resting his head on his hands, he said teasingly:

"Hadn't you been _naughty_ with Belikov in the supply closet, you might have a free Saturday now…" He wriggled his eyebrows, a move that was rewarded with a pointed glare by Rose.

"It was worth it," she replied sitting up straight, the memory making her smirk. Eddie just shook his head and turned back to his work. "And anyway, if that really was the reason, why isn't he with us right now, scribbling reports?"

"Because he's outta state with Christian?" He asked, one eyebrow raised; Rose frowned.

"What a little smartass you are today, Eddie," she said and then, just like a light bulb was lit above her head, her eyes went wide, a devilish smile appeared on her face and she leaned closer. "Well, well, well… let's just say that I really am here for being a bad, naughty girl… But what is your excuse?"

All she got for answer were silence and a blush.

**A/N: If you could have seen my face as I was writing it :P Anyway, I guess I have been watching way too much Grey's Anatomy these days… (After the eight season's finale, I started the whole series again. Right now, I am about at the half of the second season :P)**


	397. 395 Miscarriage

**395. Miscarriage**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 247<p>

Lissa had always hated keeping things secret from Rose – but this time, it was different. She didn't want to see her best friend's heart being broken.

It all started with some scientist asking for an audience; he claimed that he had found a method that would 'enable dhampirs to reproduce amongst their own kind' (it sounded terribly crude and Lissa hated how it was put, but they were the doctor' exact words). He only wanted the Queen's permission and support to do the clinic tests.

Lissa granted them.

At first, she even thought about asking the doctor to put Rose and Dimitri on the trial; after a night spent lying awake thinking about it, she decided against it – if the method didn't work, it would have just hurt much more.

So Rose remained in the dark.

At first, everything went smoothly. Lissa got weekly updates on how the trial was going. Out of the six dhampir women on the test, five conceived successfully in a few weeks' time.

…Just to lose their baby before the end of the eight week.

The second round of the trial ended up in the same manner. Just like the third – none of the women was able to carry their child for more than nine weeks.

Lissa didn't give permission for the fourth round. The documentation of the trial was either destroyed or closed away. Nobody, expect the ones who were involved in the tests, ever learnt about it.

Not even Rose.

**A/N: I won an award :) The main local daily newspaper (several thousand copies) had this program for high school students, running for seven weeks. You wrote articles, and the bests of them got published once a week (I got three of mine publish, out of the, I think, six I sent in). The program ended this week, and the editorial staff picked the student they thought to be the best for this award ('Golden Pen Award'), and this time, they chose me :) It's pretty serious stuff, so I guess I am a little proud of myself :)**


	398. 396 Line

**396. Line**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 250<p>

Headmistress Kirova places her elbows on her desktop, resting the tips of her long fingers against each other in front of her face. She is looking at him with thoughtful, speculative eyes.

"To be completely frank, I am not really happy about your decision, Guardian Belikov." Her voice is completely neutral; neither approving nor disapproving. "She might be talented, but she is also irresponsible, ill-tempered and hot-headed. Even one of these qualities can make somebody unfit for being a Guardian."

Dimitri straightens his spine, sticking his chin out confidently. He has refused to sit down.

"With all due respect, headmistress, I believe that if trained properly, she-"

"Yes, yes, I know, I have already heard it," she cuts in impatiently leaning back in her chair.

"Then you know it as well that Guardian Petrov agrees with me. We both think that during times like this, we can't waste a talent like Rose's." He is completely calm, not losing his composure.

Kirova considers this for a moment. She, too, understands what a good Guardian means nowadays. She looks into the young man's eyes, not even allowing herself the luxury to blink. Dimitri returns her gaze just as intensely.

"Alright," Kirova says at last. "You have my approval. Train her. Make her the best. But remember it, Belikov: from here on in, it's you duty to keep her in line. Do you understand?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he is fighting the urge to smile.

"I'll do my best, headmistress."


	399. 397 Setback

**397. Setback**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 167<p>

When the news reaches Tasha, she is only slightly worried.

Rose has broken out of jail.

She tries to act like she is glad about it – that she is glad that Rose, even if temporally, is out of the clutches of the law. Glad that the girl has a chance to clear her name.

As if.

She wants Rose behind those bars again. She wants people to hate her. She wants to see her being executed.

…Of course, that's going to happen. The Guardians are great, she knows that – they will catch her and Dimitri in no time. Dimitri… she will clear him somehow of this. She will make him forget that little slut.

Yet, panic is slowly finding its grip on her soul. What if they do get away and find out that it's her behind all of it? What is she gets arrested?

…No, it won't happen. They will never catch her. Her plan is perfect.

It's not the end. It's merely a small setback.

**A/N: The big thing I promised a while ago is right around the corner :)**


	400. 398 Truck

**398. Truck**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 185<p>

A loud screeching sound (at least it is very loud to him) and then the whole room is bathed in brilliant sunlight (somebody has pulled the curtains open. Damn them).

It blinds him (even though his eyes are closed) and makes his headache even worse (actually, it feels like his skull wants to split open).

"Get up, Ivashkov. It's almost noon." He knows that she means to sound stern, but doesn't really succeed. The next moment, his blanket is pulled off of him. He groans loudly in protest.

"It's nice to see you too, Sage…" He mutters into his pillow. "Now, I would really appreciate, if you left me alone." …_So I can continue to wallow in my hangover alone._

He feels his mattress shift as Sydney sits down. She (gently, heavens bless her) peels away his hand from his face and sighs quietly.

"You look like you have been hit by a car," she observes, lying down next to him.

He chuckles without humor.

"By a car? It feels more a truck…"

All miseries of being hung-over are forgotten as he hears her laugh.


	401. 399 Dangerous

**399. Dangerous**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 107<p>

Alberta really, really hated to watch it – Dimitri tormenting himself over Rose. That boy was so… obviously, painfully in love and did nothing about it other than keeping everything inside, that it took all her willpower not to go over to him and smack some sense into him.

…But she held back. Okay, not entirely – she tried to talk with him about it. She sought him out when he was alone, cornered him and asked him why he was acting like an idiot.

His answer was quiet simple.

"It's too dangerous."

The only thing Alberta didn't get was that Dimitri had never backed down from danger before.

**A/N: remember the big thing I have mentioned a few times before? Well, it's here! I am proud to announce the first Molnija Awards, the first all-Vampire Academy fanfiction award, hosted by kittenxxkisses and myself. You can find the details under the Award's account (Molnija Award). Nominations start today! :)**


	402. 400 Rough

**400. Rough**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 111<p>

Mia eyed the scarf around Rose's neck skeptically.

"Rose…" she started carefully; her friend made a little 'huff'-sound, signaling that she was listening. "You do realize that it is summer?" Rose nodded. "And it's sweltering?" Another nod. "And that you are wearing a scarf? A knit scarf?"

Without another word, Rose pulled the fabric from her neck, angling in it a way so Mia could see the dark, quiet nasty-looking love-bite on her skin.

"Oh…" she sighed, understanding everything. "Oh!" She then added, with a devilish smirk.

"Dimitri, well… he sometimes gets a little rough. Territorial." Rose explained.

"But you like that."

"I love that."

"Well, I would love that, too."

**A/N: Don't forget to nominate you favorite stories/authors on the Molnija Award! (I'll see this note a few more times in the next weeks :P)**


	403. 401 Boat

**401. Boat**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 347<p>

The call was quite unexpected – I mean, Sydney only called when there was something wrong. Terribly wrong. Like my father had bribed her into doing something-wrong. And even then, she usually waited until my 'night' was over.

"Rose," she said lieu of greeting, her voice urgent, frantic. It doesn't start well, I thought as I stifled a yawn. "I need a friend. Right now." She huffed on the other end of the line.

"And you can't reach anybody else right now who fits into that category?" I whispered into the receiver.

"You are the only one I can think of right now who fits into that category."

"Wow. I am flattered, really." I said quietly as I slowly climbed out of the bed, careful not to disturb Dimitri, and walked to the kitchen. "Now, tell me, what do you need that friend for so bad right now? Do you need to bury a corpse?"

She didn't even register my joke.

"Rose, I did something really bad. I mean, I have been doing something really bad." Short pause. "I am doing – and God, I am enjoying it!"

"Whoa, I think I need you to be a little bit more specific, now."

Another pause; I could technically see her crouching by the – pristine white – wall of her apartment, running her finger through her hair.

"Okay, so…" she swallowed. "So, there's this guy, and he is completely infuriating and unbearable and kind of cute and everything, and I think… I think I am falling for him. But I shouldn't! Because, here's the thing, it's a complete abomination and… and that's a bad thing, but, oh my God, Rose, I just…"

"Stop here, right now." I stopped her mid-sentence before she went all crazy on me. "So you have the hots for a guy you shouldn't have and now you are afraid what others might think and how would it interfere with your future?" I summarized and she answered with a little 'u-hm' sound. Now, it was my turn to sigh.

"Calm down, Sage. I have been in that boat, too."

**A/N: Whoa, it's been forever I wrote anything other than third person POV :) Oh, and please, somebody get me off of Grey's Anatomy XD I have started it from the very beginning – I didn't remember it :D Now I am at Se03Ep09 XD And so far, I have counted three actors/actresses who has been in True Blood as well :D  
>Oh, and don't forget the Molnija Awards! Spread the word!<strong>


	404. 402 Love Bug

**402. Love Bug**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 225<p>

Christian was humming, and had been for the past fifteen minutes, which was quite annoying, since A, he had no musical hearing and B, the song he was humming was annoying itself. Rose was contemplating – since getting away was not an option, as they were on a fricking plane - whether she should shove something down his windpipe to stop the humming, or if she should just simply strangle him.

She was leaning towards the latter.

(Just to ask him to stop would have been too easy, and to be frank, pointless.)

But when he started to sing under his breath as well, Rose really started to lose it.

_ "Now I am speechless over the edge, I'm just breathless, I never thought I'd catch this love bug again…"_

Suddenly recognizing the lyrics, Rose's eyes went wide, then the corners of her lips turned upwards.

"Whoa, Sparky, I would have never thought that you are into Jonas Brothers," she said, smiling slyly.

Christian's reply came just as fast and sharp as all his replies always did.

"Look, I have an excuse – Liss listens to them, I hear it, it sticks." His smirk turned into a flow-blown grin in a blink of an eye. "But what is your excuse for recognizing this song, huh?"

Let's just say that Rose remained silent until they got off the plane.

**A/N: I have nothing against Jonas Brothers, nor their music (mostly because I know none of their songs). It's just I googled this day's prompt, and it found a song called "Love Bug" by Jonas Brothers :P Knowing their popularity amongst teenaged girls, I thought that it would be a good topic for bickering for these two :P**


	405. 403 Sheets

**403. Sheets**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 220<p>

…It isn't his fault, it really isn't…

_ (He just wanted a little adventure. He just wanted to do something forbidden.)_

"…What should he do now? Run and hide? Give himself in?

_ (The girl made his blood boil. She was sensuous. Quite attractive for a blood whore.)_

…He tries to cover her with the sheets. It's impossible – they are slick and heavy with blood. He can't avoid looking at her.

_ (He'd never been with a blood whore before, but he had always wanted to try it. He had wanted to feel it.)_

…Her body is now as pale as a Strigoi's, and is getting cold. The limp limbs slowly becoming rigid.

_ (He hadn't meant to nick her artery, but the moment was so full of passion and pleasure and he didn't know what he was doing.)_

…Her face is the strangest – sex is still etched to her features, even in her death.

_ (He wanted to stop it, stop the blood, but he just couldn't. The blood whore – the girl – bled dry in front of his eyes. She didn't even feel it – she was way too high.)_

…He breaks down, hands clutching the bloodied sheets. He cries into the night, not knowing what to do, where to go.

_ (At least she is free now, free of her addiction. But what about him?)_

**A/N: Just two unnamed OCs – I guess I needed some drama and suspense :)**


	406. 404 Warm

**404. Warm**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 179<p>

I sighed quietly as Dimitri's (heavenly cool) hand touched my forehead.

"You have a fever," he declared, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "You are going nowhere today. I am calling Hans." And he was already getting up from the bed going for the phone.

"No," I protested, trying to sit up. "There's no need to. I am okay, I really am. I am a dhampir, after all: we don't get sick easily." I reasoned, even though my head hurt like hell, I was feeling dizzy from sitting up and I really did feel a little bit feverish.

Dimitri only lifted one of his eyebrows in a mocking manner, telling me without words that I should quit kidding him.

And then I coughed. Hard.

"Okay, you win," I said, lying back on the pillows. "I am sick. I am staying home. Call Hans…"

He smiled slightly, sympathetically and reached for the phone.

"But I have a condition!" I said, stopping him in mid-movement. "You are staying as well," I snuggled deeper into the sheets. "I need a nurse."

**A/N: First Person, only for Kat :)**


	407. 405 Fireplace

**405. Fireplace**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

Oh, how she did miss this! Calmness, quiet, peace of mind.

Being a queen is a taxing job – there is always something to do, somewhere to be, somebody to convince. Adding juggling spirit and trying to get a degree to the mix makes it even harder.

That's why she savors moments like this: it's just Christian and her now, with the warmth of the old quilt blanket and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. There is nobody to watch, to criticize. No reason to rush. No reason to be shy. This moment, this place is only theirs.

That's why she kissing him slowly, and that's why his hand is drawing gentle circles on the soft skin of her stomach. That's why they still have all their clothes on.

Because this moment is theirs to feel, to live, to love.

**A/N: Don't forget the Molnija Awards! Nominations are still going on! Spread the word!**


	408. 406 Smooth

**406. Smooth **

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 163<p>

I caressed the chubby cheeks of the baby. His skin was soft… smooth… flawless. He was small, but cried loudly when he felt like it and was almost completely bald yet and he was perfect.

And he was Lissa's.

I felt the tears prick my eyes – I didn't know what was wrong with me. It was a nice day, a happy day, and I should have been happy, but-

I left the room without a word before I started crying.

I didn't even let my sobs out until I was way down the corridor. I sank down by the wall, burying my face in my hands. It was just so overwhelming. I would have never thought that I'd want that. That I would want a baby. Yet…

I didn't realize that Dimitri'd followed me; I only recognized him when he crouched down next to me and pulled me into his lap. He didn't say a thing, only caressed my hair tenderly.

He understood.

**A/N: I distinctly remember a review some time ago, where the reviewer wrote that she'd like to a see a drabble about Rose not being able to have kids with Dimitri. I don't remember who the reviewer was, not could I find the review, but here it is :) Please, dear requester, if you are reading it, let your voice to be heard! :D**


	409. 407 Allknowing

**407. All-knowing**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

"It wouldn't work, anyway."

Adrian's smirk is taunting.

"How would you know that?" He takes a confident step towards her, pulling his hands from his pockets. "It could end up in a completely different way." Another step. She takes one backwards, her fingertips touching the wall behind her. "It could work. We could make it work." She can feel his breath on her lips now, and he rests his hands on her waist. "And if somebody has a problem with us? We could overcome them." He is pushing her against the wall now. "Fight. We could win. We will win." His lips are brushing against her neck. "We could be together. We will be together."

She loses it.

She buries her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Why do you have to be so…" a moan, so uncharacteristic of her, "…all-knowing?"

He only chuckles.


	410. 408 Authority

**408. Authority**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 257<p>

They have no idea how did they end up there, or whose idea was it, but this doesn't change the fact that all five of them – Dimitri, Adrian, Eddie, Christian and Mikhail - are sitting in a bar, at the same table, each of them nursing a beer or something stronger in their hands.

Call it a gentlemen's night, if you will (though we could question who is a gentleman among them).

But what is not in question: night is wearing on and they are, slowly but steadily, getting drunk. (Some of them are drunker than others). And as we know, when Christian drinks, he tends to say a lot of crazy things.

"I don't care if she's the queen, I am the one who wears the pants in this relationship, I am telling you," he says and takes a sip of his drink. "Everything happens in the way I say it, when I say it." He almost throws his glass to the table just to prove his point, what makes Eddie, who was just falling asleep, jump. "And I am going home when I say I am going home."

The universe has its ways to prove people wrong, or just simply kid with them, and the next moment Christian's phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket in haste, and after a quick look to the screen, he lifts it to his ear, and is already speaking.

"I am on my way!"

He hears the others' laugh even after the bar's door closes behind him.

**A/N: Today I learnt the results of my written exams – everything is absolutely great :) I won't bore you with the exact results, I'll just quote one of my friends: "You won't get _accepted_ to University – you'll get _invited_!" :D**


	411. 409 Deny

**409. Deny**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 216<p>

"So… I guess you and Abe are back together?" I start carefully, avoiding my mother's gaze. From the corner of my eyes I see her stiffen a little, almost unnoticeably, but the next moment she acts totally indifferent, as if my question was nothing.

"Of course not," her voice weavers a little, and I notice that she, too, is trying to avoid looking into my eyes. "What we had… it's in the past. It was great – nice, really nice, and we had you, and it's great, but it's in the past. End of the story."

I sigh. Parents can be so difficult sometimes.

"You know, it would be okay if you were. Back together, I mean," I shrug, trying to play the nonchalant. "You guys… I think, you would be great together."

I swear, she blushes a little at my words.

"Thanks Rose, it's really sweet of you and-" she catches herself mid-sentence, shakes her head, and continues only then. "And we are not together. Honestly, we aren't."

I just make a noncommittal shrug, saying that it isn't my business – they are grown people, after all.

Eleven seconds of silence (I know. I counted.) and then my mother is speaking again.

"But let's say we are back together… theoretically. What would you think about it?"

_ Bingo._

**A/N: I have a very important message for every VA writer and reader. MyFirstPenNameWasTaken asked me to share it with you: There's a group, or organization, if you will, on this site, calling themselves 'Critics United'. Members of this group hunt stories who violate the rules of this site even a tiniest bit, and then, just like a gang, harass the writer and report the story until it is taken down. More information here: quinnbastians . tumblr post/24345794821/important-re-mass-deletion-of-stories-on**


	412. 410 Moan

**410. Moan**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 223<p>

"Would you mind keeping it down?" Christian said without any kind of prelude as he sat down to the breakfast table opposite of me.

"Keeping down what?" I asked, fighting down my smirk. I had a very good idea of what he was talking about.

About a week ago Lissa had said that she'd enough – she needed a vacation. Being a queen has its perks, and so now, a week later, here we were, the four of us – Lissa, Dimitri, Christian and myself – sharing a cute little bungalow by the sea. Of course, we had other guardians with us, but they were strictly instructed not to bother us.

Life was great.

"You know exactly what I am talking about." Christian grumbled. "I am talking about all that noise and moaning and – please, don't let me finish it."

Now, I was grinning broadly.

"Well, I can't help that the walls of this house are so thin, and you really can't blame me for having a healthy sex life," I shrugged as I stood up from the table. "And anyway, I would be glad to be able to sleep during the night, but somebody – or rather, two somebodies – keeps keeping me up. And, well, a girl has to somehow spend the night…" And with that, I elegantly left the room.

It takes two to tango.

**A/N: I can so imagine Rose being deliberately louder than usual just to bug Christian :P Can't you? :D**


	413. 411 Dough

**411. Dough**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 169<p>

Okay, this shouldn't have been surprising – I mean, I knew Dimitri could bake. His mother had told me. And I also knew that he could make wicked (even though instant) hot chocolate.

But to walk in on him as he was elbow-deep in some kind of darkish dough (that sweet, Russian dark bread he loved so much, I guess) was a little bit startling for me.

But in the best sense of the word.

I mean, what can be hotter than a man baking? (Okay, a man training shirtless. Or naked. But that's beside the point.)

And he was… damn. I knew I shouldn't have been turned on by my boyfriend kneading some dough, but… but… he was mouth-watering.

It took him a second or two to realize that I had entered the room, but when he did, he turned to me with a soft smile – and a little bit of flour – on his face. I didn't say a word, only stepped closer to him, already unbuttoning my blouse…

**A/N: Wish me luck tomorrow! It's my advanced level literature/grammar oral tomorrow morning :S I am freaked out. The thing is, I either get the best mark or fail. (The whole exam, written and oral together, is 150 points – 100 the written part, 50 the oral. You have to get 60% overall – 90 points – the get the best mark. My written test was 80 points, so if I get 10 out of 50 tomorrow, it'll be exactly 60% - but if I get less than 10 points – which is the 20% of the oral part, and is the amount of points you need to pass the test – I'll fail.)**


	414. 412 Skittles

**412. Skittles**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 212<p>

"Want some?"

I looked at Adrian like he was crazy as he offered me a half packet of sour Skittles.

Well, he really did look like he was crazy.

"What's that?" I said, not really eager to try the offered treat out. Adrian pulled his hand back and, mockingly, inspected the package.

"Candy," he observed. "And quite yummy, too." He offered me the package again. "Take some."

"I'd rather not," I slid a little bit farther from him. "Isn't it that stuff which is milked from a giraffe?" I tried to hide my disgust in my voice. I didn't really succeed.

Adrian laughed out loud.

"That's just a TV ad, Sage!" He basically pushed to package into my face. "Take one!" He ordered and I did, carefully turning the candy between my fingers.

"Why are you eating this, anyway?" I asked, before putting the Skittle into my mouth. "I'd have never thought you to be a sweet-toothed person."

"Well, I am not," he shrugged. "But some chew gum when they are getting off cigarette, and well, I eat Skittles." He smiled that infuriating smile of his, then gave me a pointed look. "Eat it already, sage."

I sighed, took a deep breath and then… eat the candy.

It wasn't even that bad.

**A/N: Okay, three things: firstly, I am sorry for the lack of update yesterday, but by evening, I was totally drained (exam, a two-hour-long bus ride, an almost sun-stroke, a seven-year-old's birthday party, where my mother tried to hook me up with some relative of some relative's… you name it). Two, just adding to the prompt – Skittles have only been around in Hungary for like two years, and they only come in two flavors: 'normal' (red package) and 'sour' (green package). I go for sour :P Oh, and I don't know about the American ads, but in the Hungarian man there was a black man milking a giraffe, which was eating a rainbow… Three: have you guys read the second chap of The Golden Lily? :D Adrian's message is epic XD (On the down side, it'll most likely take months again until I can get this book…)**


	415. 413 Text

**413. Text**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 195<p>

"I want this to be rewritten," Lissa said, pushing a few sheets of paper from herself. Her secretary looked at her, quite startled. "It's not how it happened."

The secretary picked up the pages, turning them in his hands nervously.

"But your highness, if I may say so, it's the completely accurate retelling of your rise to the throne. This text is ready to be printed… it could already be in the history books by September. If only you would approve it…"

"But I do not approve!" Lissa snapped, then, regaining her composure, she continued in a much more regal tone. "It might be more or less accurate, but it is still missing a very important person in my story – my Guardian. Rose Hathaway. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead now."

Her secretary looked uncomfortable.

"But your highness, she's just a dhampir; it was her job. It was only expected of her to do so…"

Lissa sighed, starting to get sick of him.

"She might be just a dhampir for you, but for me, she is my best friend. And I will not be – I don't want to be – remembered if she won't"

**A/N: Partially inspired by a book I've just finished. GOOD BOOK ALERT: Michelle Moran – The Heretic Queen. Set in the ancient Egypt, the young princess Nefertari, niece of Nefertiti, is in love with the heir of the throne, Ramses. But because of her late family, her uncle Ehnaton, the heretic pharaoh, she is looked down. And even though her love is returned, it is not enough to be Ramses' most important wife. Politics and love mingle in this novel, where every string is being pulled by women – a very fascinating read :) (Rambling off. Sorry for it.)**

**Also, the link for the TV ad I mentioned yesterday: www. youtube watch?v=QWfhZAYSw80 The narrative says: "Milk the rainbow. Eat the rainbow" XD**


	416. 414 Weights

**414. Weights**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

The pressure is great.

I mean, you can be so handsome that it could be considered a crime, you can have enough money to buy an island, the charms and charisma to make anybody swoon – let's not forget the perfectly styled hair! –, but all these stuff aren't enough when you are pushed off your pedestal by a guardian who can fight off Strigoi barehanded. When the girl you are crazy about chooses muscle over you.

(At least it's what Adrian is feeling.)

So he fights. If girls need muscle, he'll give them muscle. He buys weights and machines and even protein shakes (even though they taste awful) and starts to train.

It lasts only a day. He gives up when he can barely lift one of the weights he bought.

Well, the girls will have to be content with his charms and perfects hair.

(Or maybe he could get pectoral implants… The look only is more than nothing…)

**A/N: Again, some Grey's Anatomy inspiration :) In season two or three, Izzy and Alex had a patient who had pectoral implantation – and always spoke in third person about himself – because he thought that his girlfriend preferred her personal trainer because he was more muscled. **


	417. 415 Runners

**415. Runners**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 224<p>

Elizabeth Stinson, widow of the late Joshua Stinson, has always been an early riser – it is the only reason she sees the young couple jogging by her house almost every morning. They make a lovely pair – both young, dark-haired and tan-skinned.

She knows basically nothing of them – where they live, what their jobs are, whether they are married or not. But she knows things, only by watching them: they are happy. Not over the top happy, but that kind of content-happy, when they know they can always rely on the other. And they love each other. It's transparent for anybody who spares them a glance.

They remind her so much of her own youth and her Joshua.

After some time, it becomes her routine to watch them – they always take a little break around her house. They sit on the grass for a few minutes and tease each other. Usually girl would say something which would make the boy laugh and then he would catch a curl of her hair and play with it until they left. They are simply lovely.

Elizabeth can't help but like them, even though she has never spoken to either of them.

But it is going to change soon: tomorrow, when they jog by her house, she is going to wait for them with a nice jug of lemonade.

**A/N: I would like to dedicate this drabble to my roommate, who had lent me her soft, cozy, purple blanket (what is currently draped over my shoulders). **


	418. 416 Punch

**416. Punch**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 271<p>

It's months after their break up – a nasty one, that's it -, and they have barely spoken since, and yet they find themselves side by side, standing against the wall, inspecting the crowd – the important people, the royals, the dancers – as they enjoy the banquet thrown by her friend – their friend.

Rose knows she should talk to him, but she has no idea what to say. That she is sorry? She isn't – well, kind of. She is happy to be with Dimitri, but at the same time, she wishes she didn't hurt Adrian like she did with her choice. That he would find somebody better for him? Would it be any use?

In the end, her eyes fixed on the royals, she picks a random topic.

"Sometimes I would so love to punch some of them right in the face," she says, more to herself than to Adrian.

"Then why don't you? You wouldn't have had a problem with it a few months ago." His voice is neutral. She shrugs.

"I am growing up, I guess. Starting to think responsibly. And anyway, I'd like to keep my job."

"But you still want to punch them in the face," he states, and she nods in confirmation. "Which one? That?" He points at a random royal. She nods again.

"For example."

"Okay," he says, walking up to the man he pointed at. Then, without any further warning, he punches him, the champagne in the man's hand spilling all over them.

Some around them shriek. Some curse. Some laugh. Adrian simply turns to her and smiles crookedly.

Well, maybe they still can be friends.

**A/N: Sorry, I am a little bit in shock – the mother of one of my classmates' committed suicide two days ago. She jumped from the top of the city hall. It was all over the papers. And I just can't believe it. I knew her – not very well, but I did. I don't know how could she do this to her daughter – she raised her alone, and we are only a week shy of our oral exams, and then comes university, and I have no idea how my classmate will do it now…**


	419. 417 Kick

**417. Kick**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

The first time it happened, Lissa thought she was imagining it. After all, it was way too early.

…Wasn't it?

But no, her mind wasn't playing tricks on her: she really did feel her baby move inside of her, its kicks soft tapping against the inside of her belly.

She grinned like a fool. It was just simply… she couldn't even describe it. She longed to share this experience with somebody – with Christian. Or even better, with Rose. It would have been the best if they still had the bond, and Rose could have felt what she had just felt.

She stopped herself then.

Not, that wouldn't have been the best. It would have been the worst.

Because it would have just reminded her friend what she could never have.


	420. 418 Madness

**418. Madness**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 120<p>

It's pure masochism, Lissa knows it, yet she still visits her.

Avery.

The girl who wanted to kill her, who almost had her jump out of the window. The girl who killed her own brother just to test her powers. Just to have him as a slave later. The girl who abused her powers until a point where she went mad.

It pains her to see Avery. She never talks to her; only watches her from outside her white sterile hospital room. She watches her sitting on her bed, mumbling crazy things to herself, not even aware of her surroundings.

It's terrible, but it's Lissa's warning, her reminder – that's where she can easily end up if she is not careful.


	421. 419 Rose Logic

**419. Rose Logic**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 236<p>

As it turned out, it was a lot easier to be with Sydney than Adrian had originally thought. She was smart, kind, caring, good-hearted, and after getting over the fact that she was in a relationship with a Moroi, she ceased to be so guilt-ridden and wound up (okay, she was still pretty much wound up, at least compared to the girls he had dated earlier, but he still had plenty time to work on that).

Oh, and yeah, she was totally predictable.

It came with being an alchemist, he guessed, but it still was a little bit... strange. Sydney always exactly did what he expected her to do. There were no sudden ideas, no crazy plans, suicide missions. No, just carefully executed plans and thought through scenarios. With Sydney, everything went the way it was supposed to be. The way she thought it was supposed to be.

It was a little bit… unsettling for him, at first. He wasn't used to it. He was used to Rose's craziness and harshness, her act first, think later attitude.

And to be honest, he kind of missed it.

He almost laughed at himself, because out of everything Rose was, out of everything they had had together, the only thing he was missing, he realized, was the infamous "Rose Logic". Only that.

But then again, he reassured himself, with time he would get used to Sydney's collectedness just fine.


	422. 420 Standard

**420. Standard**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 271<p>

Lissa looked directly into Hans' eyes, her gaze steady.

"So, since I am the _Queen_," she put extra emphasis on the word, just to make her point, "it means that I can choose my own Guardian"

"Guardians, your Majesty, but yes, the ultimate decision is yours. Of course, there are some standards every candidate has to-"

"Great," Lissa cut in. "But I have my own standards, too." She allowed a small smile to break out on her lips. She hadn't thought she would enjoy it this much.

"Of course, your Majesty," Hans didn't even blink, only took out a small notepad and a pen, ready to write down all of her criteria.

"Okay," she nodded. "I want my primary Guardian to be female, since, of course, it's the most conventional. And, from the same point of view, I think it would be the best if she was my age. Also, I want somebody I can talk with – I can't bear the Guardians who just stand by the wall. And it would be the best, if she knew my routine and habits. Actually, it would be the best if she knew me better than anybody else. Oh, and before I forget, we need some proof that she is a competent fighter, somebody who can surely neutralize any possible Strigoi attack." She made a little show of thinking about something else to say, and then added, "That would be everything, Guardian Croft."

Hans's calmness wasn't so natural anymore.

"That only leaves Hathaway, doesn't it?" He asked more from himself, than from Lissa.

The corners of the queen's lips pulled higher.

"That's the point."

**A/N: Oh, I almost forgot – I finally read City of Lost Souls :) It was awesome, and now I am about 90% sure that brother Zachariah is Jem :P **


	423. 421 Field

**421. Field**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 219<p>

Sydney itched to take off the blindfold, but Adrian's hand planted firmly on the small of her back prevented her from doing so. He'd said that he had a surprise for her, tied a shawl over her eyes, and took her somewhere. Judging by the smells and the sounds, they currently were in a forest.

"Adrian, where are we-"

"We are almost there," he said, not answering her question, but successfully silencing her.

It was a good ten minutes later when they finally stopped and Adrian took off her blindfold without saying a word.

He let the view tell her everything.

They were on a hill, covered with soft, green turf, the forest behind their backs, the city far bellow them. It was amazing. Breathtaking.

"What is…?" The words died on her lips.

"Well, this place is mine – or rather yours, really. I mean, I bought it, but for you," he stopped for a moment. "I thought about buying a house, but then it struck me that it would be so, so much better if… well, if you designed it. After all, you are the architecture-girl." He finished, completely sincere.

Sydney was completely taken aback. Then, she did something she would have never thought she would do: she jumped into Adrian's neck and kissed him with all her might.

A/N: It's sweltering, I am sitting on the floor on an old duvet, it's nearly midnight, we are being attacked by night bugs and I am eating gummi bears. I am incorrigible :D  
>Also, it is, too, partially inspired of Grey's Anatomy – I think I am addicted. Oh, and I have a new poll on my profile, please, check it out :)<p> 


	424. 422 Awake

**422. Awake**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 153<p>

"What was it like?" My voice is weak, tentative as the words leave my mouth. I am afraid to ask.

Dimitri doesn't ask what I mean; he knows. He always knows.

He doesn't say a thing for a little while, only pulls me closer, my bare back against his chest. When he speaks, his breath is hot in my ear.

"It was like… waking up from a long slumber. It's no mistake they call it Awakening. Suddenly, the world is so much… brighter and clearer, and you are so confident and sure of what you want to do…" He trails off.

"Don't you miss it?" I ask. "Don't you miss that clarity? Wasn't it… easier?"

He nuzzles his face against my neck, kissing the tender skin under my ear.

"No, not at all. Because even though that was like waking up… this is, what we have now, is more like living a dream."

**A/N: A little bit of angsty undertones, some hinted naughtiness, in first person POV, and some fluff – I pay attention to what you want :)**


	425. 423 Sudden

**423. Sudden**

POV: Mia  
>Word Count: 143<p>

Big changes don't happen overnight – they happen in a blink of an eye.

When I was mocking her, it took Rose only a moment to strike out and break my nose.

It took only a moment my mother to die. One moment she was doing the dishes, in the next her neck was snapped by a Strigoi (at least she wasn't afraid, at least she didn't suffer, I try to convince myself).

In Spokane, it took me only a moment to run back to the house, and one more to act – to use the water in the aquarium, subduing the Strigoi with it.

And now, it takes only a moment to turn and kick and get free, out of Tasha's hold _(whyisithappeningitcan'tbehappeningitisabaddream…)_

Because in life everything happens suddenly. One moment you are… you, but the next can make you a hero – or dead.


	426. 424 Shake

**424. Shake**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 184<p>

When Jill announces that she is going on a date for a first time in her life (in a totally excited manner, barely able to slow down enough so her words are intelligible), Adrian acts aloof. So Jailbait is going on a date. Great. It's time, after all (when he was her age, he was already getting laid on a regular basis). But on the day of the date he makes sure to be there – early, unexpected and uninvited – to see Jill leave to her date.

And to see the guy she is meeting.

There isn't much to say about Adam – that's his name -; he's an average Moroi teenager. But he wants to do dirty things to Jill – to Adrian's little sister -, he's sure about it.

So before they leave, Adrian introduces himself, shakes the guy's hand and looks into his eyes. Deeply. Menacingly.

Adam doesn't take Jill out for a second date.

No-one messes with Adrian Ivashkov's little (sort of) sister.

(He doesn't treat Jill's next suitor the same way, though. He knows Jill would skin him alive if he did.)

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Zutara Week is happening again, guys! :) It's going to take place between July 15th and 21st. Time is short, but I really want to take part this year, too :) I'll start planning tomorrow. Oh, and Makorra Week is right after, I'll try to put something together for that as well :)**


	427. 425 Earthquake

**425. Earthquake**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 144<p>

I leaned back on the pillows, breathing heavily, my skin coated with a thin layer of sweat. I was completely satisfied and so, so blissfully tired. This was, without doubt, the best sex in my life. So far.

Dimitri was lying right beside me, he, too, trying to regulate his breathing, his arm brushing the side of my breast, the hairs on his arm tickling my suddenly overly sensitive skin.

It was pure heaven.

"Hey, Comrade," I said after I while, when I was sure that my voice wouldn't betray me. "Was there an earthquake here in the last thirty minutes?" I asked, rolling to my side, my head propped on my hand. "Because it sure felt like that."

He chuckled with that deep, vibrating sound I loved so much.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, pulling me down for a kiss.

**A/N: Okay, you have to know something about me – I am a statics-addict. I check my stats everyday, usually more than once – it's an indicator for me, something that tells me whether you like my stories or not. Why I am telling you this? Because this month's stats are great, and I want to thank you for this :) A year ago, when these drabbles started to get popular, they had about 10-12K hits a month. Now, it's already over 24K :) I had 12 days in this month with over 1K hits :) So, thank you :) I am really grateful for your support :)**

**Aaaannndd… Korra season finale :D Loved it. And I am proud of myself, since I had some theories and they more or less turned out to be true :) Anyone wants to discuss the finale? :D**


	428. 426 Blank

**426. Blank**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 163<p>

Sydney stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unmoving.

It shouldn't be this hard; it was just her weekly report. Something she had been doing regularly for months. Something insignificant; something that was only needed because of the bureaucracy.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

She couldn't do this, she just simply couldn't. There was not one right solution.

_ You can never lie to the Alchemists. They will catch you, sooner or later, and then it's over for you._

_ You can't abandon the ones you love. You just can't give up your happiness._

It was impossible. She had to tell the Alchemists about Adrian and her, she simply had to – she had been taught to do that her whole life. But if she did… they would tear them apart. The mere thought made her shiver.

There was not one right solution. So Sydney just stayed there, eyes on the blank page, fingers hovering above the keyboard, until sleep claimed her.

**A/N: I bought a new cell yesterday – a Smartphone. Right now, it looks like it is smarter than me. We are fighting for dominance and it is winning. (Anyone knows a good, free music player for Android? I don't need any fancy stuff, just something that can manage playlists well.)**


	429. 427 Blink

**427. Blink**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 291<p>

It's a well-known fact: boys are crazy. Maybe it has something to do with their Y chromosome, or with the fact that seemingly, they don't have enough blood (if it goes Southward, they won't have enough up North to function properly…) Whatever the reason is, there is no human (Moroi, dhampir) male, who is completely sane, I am sure of it.

Of course, it doesn't mean that I don't like boys – because I do. I just simply like to point out the obvious. Not that I really need to do that – they do enough crazy stuff to prove my point.

Let's just take Mason and Eddie, for example. Right now, at this moment. I really need their help – and what are they doing? They are having a staring contest.

_ A goddamned staring contest._

"Rose, leave us alone now, please," Masons says, his gaze fixed at Eddie's eyes. "I can't concentrate while you are hovering above me."

"Sure, Ashford, use Rose for an excuse for loosing," Eddie adds, he, too, aren't taking his eyes off of Mason.

I take a deep breath, trying to remain rational – but it's rather hard, when I know that if it's up to them, I'll be standing here until their eyes go completely dry and crumble.

What is something I can't let happen.

It happens in a blink of an eye – no pun intended. I thrust my hands between their faces and before they could comprehend what's happening, I clap. Loudly. Unexpectedly. Inches from their noses.

Both of them jump a little in the chairs, blinking furiously. I won.

"Oh, it seems like your little contest is over. If you ask me, it looked like a tie. And now that you are free, you can help me."

**A/N: This "boys don't have enough blood"-talk is an actual motto-like thing my elementary school form teacher (grades 5th-8th; male, Geography and Woodshop) used to say a lot :D **


	430. 428 Ceiling Fan

**428. Ceiling Fan**

POV: Lissa  
>Word Count: 186<p>

After three or four hours in the conference room stacked with royals, everything becomes meaningless. It doesn't matter what they say; what they want to tell me, what they are complaining about – I simply don't hear them. But that's okay – this is why the secretaries are here – they write down everything. Strangely their babble is more understandable on paper.

After three or four hours in the conference room stacked with royals, I feel like a Guardian. I am there and I am not. I see everything and nothing. I hear everything and nothing. I am just there, just in case, technically unseen (at this point, I could fall asleep; they wouldn't even notice it).

After three or four hours in the conference room stacked with royals, everything becomes blurred. The sounds, the people, the faces. Everything is just a big mess of stimulus. Soon it becomes too much, and it dulls my senses.

After three or four hours in the conference room stacked with royals, the only thing that keeps me sane – strangely – the soft buzzing sound of the ceiling fan.

(When will it be over?)

**A/N: I saw Rock of Ages today – it was great :D The story is rather simply, but what it lacks in plot it gives back in music and humor :) Russel Brand's character was the best!**


	431. 429 Dusk

**429. Dusk**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 168<p>

A nude, slimy-skinned so-called-vampire bared its fangs at the protagonist. I could hardly suppress my laugh.

"Is this really supposed to be a horror movie?" I chuckled, hiding my face behind a cushion.

"I… guess so," replied Dimitri, eyes fixated on the TV. "I mean, that… creature there is rather scary."

"Phu-please, that's ridiculous, not scary," retorted. "Comrade, have you ever even seen a Strigoi?" I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder. When I saw him turn his head to answer, I quickly said "don't even say anything, it was rhetorical." I told him, giving him a quick kiss.

"Okay, so it might be ridiculous for us," he still went on, "but think about the humans. It must be quite terrifying for them." He shrugged.

Just as he said it, a 'vampire' on the screen was doused with holy water ad, just like it was soaked with acid, started scream as its skin started sizzling.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Now, are you sure of that, Comrade?"

**A/N: Just to make things clear – they are watching From Dusk Till Dawn. I really did laugh out loud when I first saw scenes from that film.**

**Today, my high school exams, the ones I had bee stressing about in the last, well, two months, finally reached their end. I couldn't have asked for better grades: I got the best mark for all my five subjects, and even got extra praise for all of them. I cried like a baby. **


	432. 430 Dawn

**430. Dawn**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 147<p>

Dawn is such an uncertain time of the day. The darkness is over, but the daylight isn't really started yet. It's the borderline between the realms of day and night. Between his world and her life.

He is a creature of the night, uncomfortable in the daylight. He longs for blood and looks down on humans. He's been taught this. Humans are weaker. Less.

She is a creature of the day, scared in the dark. She cringes at the sight of blood and fears vampires. She's been taught this. Vampires are evil. No matter what they are called.

Yet their worlds collide – they meet at dawn, when their realms touch. They communicate with gentle touches and soft kisses. Neither of them expected this – neither of them wanted this.

But now they wouldn't give it up for anything.

Even if they only have the dawn to be together.


	433. 431 Pride

**431. Pride**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 195<p>

Dimitri is a great guy and I love him, I love him so much, but… he's a guy. Sometimes the worst kind.

Just like now.

A loud crash. Painful cry. Russian swearing.

"Comrade…" I start half carefully, half amused. "You know… The landlord's only a phone call away. And I am sure that he could-"

"No, Roza," he cuts in. He tries to crawl from under the sink – the broken one which he is trying to repair right now – but he bangs his head into the counter. Again. I cringe as he swears – again. "I have it under control."

"Are you sure?" I ask skeptically as he crawls back again, now with a screw-wrench in his hand.

"Positive," he assures me as he is tinkering with something out of my sight. "Look, it's done," he says, slowly standing up – his head missing the edge of the counter by millimeters – reaching for the tap.

The moment the water starts running, the tap literally blows off.

More Russian swearing.

I just sigh, walking out of the kitchen, already reaching for the phone to call the landlord, before Dimitri floods the whole apartment.

Guys and their damn pride…

**A/N: Just among us – I think Rose would have done the same :P Also, a little bit of bad news: there won't be any update tomorrow, sorry guys. I am spending tomorrow night in a tent in my English teacher's garden, so – no internet :) **


	434. 432 Prejudice

**432. Prejudice**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 150<p>

It only took a moment for Janine to make an opinion of Ibrahim Mazur – when she first met him she decided in an instant that Ibrahim was trouble. Somebody meddling with criminals, doing illegal things, and only getting his way because he was rich. And let's not even mention his business with women.

Janine wanted nothing to do with him.

But then he pulled her into that alcove and kissed her. And man, what a kiss it was…

There was no stopping from there. They became lovers. They fell in love. And Janine's fears slowly evaporated.

Yes, he did some… unclear things. But he helped people, too. Yes, he had had women in his past. But now, he was faithful to her. Yes, he wasn't against violence. But he was also the gentlest lover she had ever met.

And soon, Janine had to realize how badly she had misread him.

**A/N: Last minute change in the plans, a heath wave and some tears later I decided to stay at home (it would have taken 3 hours to get to my teacher's, with three buses and one hour waiting time in 35 Celsius). So you guys got an update today as well :)**


	435. 433 See

**433. See**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 158<p>

It's not that Mason doesn't see what's going on between Rose and Belikov – it's more like he decides to ignore it. Because what's the point in it? They could never be together – it's foolish to think that they could; their ranks, positions and whatnot make it impossible (at least Mason likes to think this way).

So he acts like he was blind and tries to make Rose forget Belikov – because it's the best for everyone. He flirts with Rose, touches her in a not-so-innocent way, and when she answers to him and kisses him and is ready to call herself his girlfriend, he thinks that he has finally succeeded.

But then one day, in the ski resort, he is out on the slopes with Rose and they are having fun and laughing, and then he sees Belikov far away from them, watching and he sees something in his eyes…

Things will never be over between Belikov and Rose.

**A/N: Finally started working on my Zutara Week pieces :) Only two weeks to go…**


	436. 434 Scene

**434. Scene**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 176<p>

It's unbelievable how quickly a whole bar can shut up if somebody starts yelling.

"You dirty little bastard!" The pretty, blonde girl shouts, throwing her drink (diet coke, nothing too expensive) into Adrian's face – Adrian's who's sitting there like he's seeing a ghost. Or at least like somebody who doesn't have the faintest idea of what's going on. "You seduced me, took advantage of me and then…!" A little pause, for the dramatic effect. "And then you didn't even call me!"

That's it. She has nothing else to tell. So she simply slaps him – not so hard – then storms off.

And Adrian is just sitting there, trying to get the coke off his face, dumbfounded, speechless. Without a clue of what has just happened.

I laugh into my cocktail.

"You paid her to do this, didn't you?" Mia asks me from her seat next to me, half amused, half disapproving.

"Of course I did," _and I am quite proud of it._

Mia shrugs.

"Well, you could have picked somebody who is a little bit better actress."


	437. 435 Sex

**435. Sex**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 269<p>

First sign of the Apocalypse: Sydney Sage asks advice from me.

"So…" she starts, fidgeting in her seat, crossing then uncrossing her ankles, looking as shy and embarrassed as humanly possible. "So…" She starts again, but seemingly her vocabulary has been momentarily reduced to this single word.

I sigh, starting to lose my patience.

"Spit it out already, please."

For a moment she looks shocked and then she starts to speak. Really speak. Like one hundred mile a minute.

"So, I have been seeing Adrian, I know it's crazy, don't even say anything, so we have been… dating, I think you can say that, and, well, it is getting serious, I guess, and I think he wants more, I mean, you have known him longer than I have, and you know how he is, he likes… sex. I mean, who doesn't like sex? What I want to say is that I think he wants to have sex with me, and I am not… I don't..." short pause, then a whisper. "I am still virgin."

Sheepish eyes. I almost feel sorry for her.

"And your question is?"

"What do I do?" she asks, like it is the question that could change the world for the better.

I shrug.

"It's something you'll have to decide yourself."

Now, it's her turn to sigh.

"You are not helping at all, you know that, right?"

"Hey, it's your life, your decision," I try to defend myself, and then leaning closer, I tell her. "But this your-life-thing put aside – if I were in your place, I would take the next step. You won't regret it."


	438. 436 Romance

**436. Romance**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

Loving somebody often means that you have to do things you would never do otherwise, because they simply go against your very being, like watching a three-hour long romantic film, which is poorly disguised as a drama slash disaster movie. But because you love your girlfriend, you suck up your pride, grab some snack and sit down in front of the television.

At least that's what Christian keeps telling himself as Lissa puts her treasured Titanic DVD into the player.

He sighs. It's only three hours. Half the duration of an average school day, and a much shorter period of time than he spent in the basement in Spokane. He should survive this without any problems.

He starts to doubt as soon as that baby-faced diCaprio appears on the screen.

But he just forces on a smile, draws Lissa close and lets her steal a little popcorn from his bowl. But only because he loves her so much.

(And anyway, this summer is the time of superhero movies, so…)

**A/N: I am happy to announce that finally I found somebody who is a far worse driver than I am :D (For the record: it took me six tries to pass my driving test). And this person is no other than Dr. Sheldon Cooper :P (Yeah, I've been watching Big Bang Theory…). Two more side notes: this really is the summer of superhero movies. I just bought the July issue of my favorite movie magazine, and it's full of Batman and Spiderman. And I don't really care about Titanic. And the Avatar. And James Cameron. I think they are overrated. **


	439. 437 Lust

**437. Lust**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 139<p>

Everything has a logical explanation. Sexual attraction – lust – is no expectation.

It starts with the most primary instinct: reproduction. Hormones are on overdrive, especially during teenage years, and seemingly the only thing the individuals can think about is sex. They seek the best partner to mate. The one who is strong, healthy and has the most different DNA. When they find him or her, physical attraction – chemistry – starts.

And this is the point where logic ends.

This is the point where… I am lost.

Because it doesn't make sense. Because he is not a potential breeding partner. We are not even from the same species. My subconscious shouldn't even consider him.

And yet… most recently, I can't think about anything else, but him. His hair. His lips. His eyes. His… chest. And… him.

I hate when logic falls me.


	440. 438 Dark

**438. Dark**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

As Dimitri has learned, Rose has an odd theory about sleeping people – they only wake if you turn on the lights – and that's why whenever she comes home after he's gone to bed, she never turns them on.

No. She stumbles in the dark.

Because that is so much better.

"Ouch!... Damn… Where the hell… Ouch!... Oh, come on…"

She usually gets as far as getting her shoes off and her coat on the rack before waking him up.

When she finally climbs to bed next to him (approximately twelve painful cries later), he is always wide awake.

"Welcome home," he says, embracing her from behind, earning a little surprised yelp.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

He grits his teeth.

"No, I wasn't asleep yet." Short pause as Rose snuggles into his chest. "But Rose?" Sleepy, noncommittal noise. "Next time just turn on the lights, okay?"

**A/N: Zutara Week is only a little more than a week away, and I only have one story ¾ done. Should I start to worry? **


	441. 439 Light

**439. Light**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 135<p>

"Look, from his point of view, he is doing the right thing," I say before putting a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

"Yes, but he is still a killer – not an ounce better than his victims," Mia argues with me, waving her spoon in front of my face.

"Yes, but… Hey, aren't we killing Strigoi? Who are killing people. So, technically we are doing the same thing," I shrug, trying to defend my point.

"It's not the same thing, you know that, right?"

I think about it for a moment.

"I guess you are right. Strigoi are real, while it's just fiction – anyway, how could you kill somebody with only a notebook and a pen?"

Mia lets out a laugh.

"I am pretty sure you would find a way to do that, Rose."

**A/N: Death Note is the only "mature" anime I watched all the way (expect the last two episodes. I still haven't watched those two). As a kid I watched Sailor Moon and Pokemon, and I think a little bit of Beyblade, and Inuyasha a little bit later, but that's all. So I guess I can say I am not an anime person :)**


	442. 440 Evil

**440. Evil**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

Zoya, for a four-year-old, was a rather smart child, who took interest in almost everything.

For example in her uncle's and aunt's job.

"So, you are sticking these sticks into bad people?" She asked one day, pointing at the silver stake peeking out from under Uncle Dimka's jacket.

Her uncle suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

"Yes, you can say that…" he answered her quietly.

"Doesn't it hurt them?"

"Yes, but…"

"But why are you doing this, if it hurts?"

"You know, sweetie, they are evil…"

"So you are hurting bad people?"

"Technically, they are not people…"

"Then who are they?"

"Strigoi. They are called Strigoi, and…"

"And why are they bad?"

"Because they hurt good people. They…"

"So you hurt bad people, so they won't hurt good people?"

Dimitri let out a long breath.

"Yes, in the shortened version, that's what we do."

The little girls eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh, I get it." Then she shrugged, the topic forgotten. "Do you wanna play with me and my dolls?"

**A/N: I took my cousin's seven-year-old daughter to the cinema today. I guess this is the outcome :D**


	443. 441 Happy

**441. Happy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 194<p>

"Sage," Adrian starts, lounging on the sofa without a care in the world, "would you answer a question?"

Sydney shrugs without looking up from her book. She is way too used to his weirdness to care.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Are you happy?"

Now, Sydney does look up.

"What…? I mean… I guess I am." She swallows. "I most certainly am. I mean, I am doing my job well, and I am appreciated for it. It's hard work, but I like it. Even though I can't go to places I want to visit, and I always have to be careful, especially around you guys, and–"

"So you are not that all happy."

Sydney's shoulders slump forward.

"No… I guess I am not that happy."

For a moment it seems like Adrian is sympathizing with her. Like he understands her. Then he crawls closer to her, and before she could stop him, he leans in and whispers into her ear in a way which is, she reckons, supposed to be seductive.

"Do you want to experience real happiness with me?"

Sydney slaps him before he could blink. The mark remains on his face for days.


	444. 442 Safe

**442. Safe**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 188<p>

The child hid in the closet. She was too frightened to make a single sound; that's the only reason she survived.

The Strigoi attacked the night before. They killed everyone, drinking their blood, and then left. The child didn't even dare to move all night. The guardians didn't arrive until next morning. They didn't even discover her in the closet for an hour.

The lady who found her was young and pretty.

"Hi there," she said, crouching in front of her. "You can come out now. Don't be afraid."

But she was. She was way too afraid to come out.

"Hey, everything is okay now. The bad guys are gone. Nobody is gonna harm you now." She continued softly. "What's your name? I am Rose."

She just stood there, her little arms wounds tightly around her torso. She whimpered a little, tears leaking from her eyes.

The lady stepped closer and pulled her into her arms. She let her, snuggling into her arms. She was crying now.

"It's okay to cry," the lady cooed, slowly caressing her back. "It's okay. You are safe now. You are safe now."


	445. 443 Mouse

**443. Mouse**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 132<p>

"I think we have a mouse." I said, holding up a half packet of crackers, which was supposed to be still unopened.

Dimitri looked up from the morning paper, turning his gaze on me.

"I don't think that mice open packages with scissors, Roza," he stated a little bit ironically, but I only smirked.

"Believe me, it was a mouse. An annoying, smartass, blue-eyed mouse."

His eyes widened a little in understanding. The corners of his mouth tilted upwards.

"I guess you're right. It's a mouse. Maybe you should talk with your cat, then." He smirked, then turned back to his newspaper.

"Not a bad idea, Comrade," I grinned as I fished my cell out of my pocket and dialed. "Lissa? I'd like to discuss a thing or two about your boyfriend…"

**A/N: I am happy to announce that the Hungarian market finally has a new Skittles favor to offer :P**


	446. 444 Dodgeball

**444. Dodgeball**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 140<p>

"Eddie, if you laugh, I swear I'll skin you alive." Mason says menacingly, with an ice pack over his left eye. Eddie, meanwhile, has a rather hard time not to laugh.

"Okay, but tell me one more time – how the hell did you manage to get a black eye in P.E.?"

Mason grumbles a little, but complies.

"We were playing dodgeball…"

"That usually doesn't pose a threat to you…"

"And I was made team captain…"

"Again, not a rare occurrence…"

"And I chose Rose…"

"A move I wouldn't have even guessed…"

"And during the game somehow she ended up in front of me…"

"Now I guess it's starting to get interesting…"

"And I was so distracted by her backside, that I didn't see the ball coming." Mason finishes, and the same time, Eddie bursts out laughing.

"…Go to hell, Castile."


	447. 445 Poster

**445. Poster**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 158<p>

**A/N: Follow up to 283 Plaster**

"There's a hole in the ceiling" I observe, unamused.

"Yes. It's been there for a week," Dimitri says, lying down next to me on our bed. "Ever since we managed to destroy our crack, it's been there."

I sigh, remembering the crack, and the way it became the hole we see now. Oh, sweet memories.

"It still bothers me a little. I mean it's not exactly pretty…" I muse.

"Well, we could get it fixed any time," Dimitri shrugs. "If we tell the janitor about it tomorrow morning, it could be fixed by the time we get home from work."

I prop myself up on my elbows, frowning a little.

"And tell him how we managed to destroy the ceiling? That would be… great." My voice is dripping with sarcasm. He considers it for a moment, then puts his arms under his head, then, in a totally calm voice, he says:

"Or we could put up a poster…"


	448. 446 Starstruck

**446. Starstruck**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 169<p>

"Those girls are looking at you," I whisper over the restaurant table.

"Great," Dimitri mutters, playing with his food.

"No, I mean they are looking at you. Like gawking."

"What?"

I sigh, slightly irritated.

"Like I used, back at the Academy, when you weren't looking."

"I still don't get what you are saying."

"Like I look at you when you get out of the shower."

"Oh…"

"Yes: oh. Oh!..." I say, catching a glimpse of something behind his shoulder. "Don't look behind – I said don't look! –, but I think they are coming here."

"Why would they?"

"One of them is looking for something in her purse – I guess for a pen. So I dare to say they are going to ask for an autograph," I grin.

"But why would they–"

"Hush! They'll hear you… When they get here, play nice, okay?" I say, then looking into his eyes, I add: "But if they ask for one on their breasts, you have me permission to knock them out."

**A/N: Zutara Week starts tomorrow! :D (Way behind with the entries, but still damn excited)**


	449. 447 Movie Night

**447. Movie Night**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 148<p>

I should have thought.

It should have been suspicious that Rose was so eager to agree on watching a western movie tonight. She doesn't like western movies. At all. Well, actually she likes to joke about them, but that's all.

Yet, I didn't suspect anything. I just smiled and put in the film. And for about ten minutes, everything went normal. And then, just when the story started to get exciting, I suddenly found myself unable to pay attention to it – because a slender, feminine hand was playing with the hem of my shirt, lifting it a little, sneaking under it and caressing the skin there.

I tried to ignore it, but there is so much a man can bear. Let's just say that by the time of first pistol duel in the movie, I was preoccupied by an entirely different weapon – woman body.

Not that I minded.

**A/N: Zutara Week is on, guys! :) My first story is already up, titled The Most Unexpected Things**


	450. 448 Friends

**448. Friends**

**POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<strong>

"So, Rose…" Sydney starts somewhat shyly. "…We are friends, right?"

"Yes, I'd say that," Rose answers, pulling her eyebrows into a skeptic frown. She doesn't know where this is going, but she has a feeling she won't like it. When people say something like this they usually want something from you. "Why?"

"It's just…" Sydney's voice trails off. "Could you brief me on what does it entail?"

Rose eyes widen.

"I… what?"

"You see, I have never really had any real friends, and…"

"You haven't?"

"…No. I didn't really have time during my training for making friends. So, back to the topic – could you tell me what is expected of a friend? I don't want to mess it up."

Rose is simply unable to get her startled expression off her face. She doesn't say a word for a very long time.

"Now," she speaks finally, "I don't know if I should feel sorry for you or laugh at your absurdity."

**A/N: My submission for Zutara Week Day 2 is up! It's titled _In Her Memory_.  
>…Anyway, it was kind of inspired by The Big Bang Theory, more specifically on Amy and Penny's relationship :P<strong>


	451. 449 This Changes Everything

**449. This Changes Everything**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 109<p>

Sydney's eyes widened like a deer's in headlight.

"Say it. Say it, say the thing both of us need to hear, and I'll leave you alone." Adrian wasn't furious or aggressive, only so intense that it was almost terrifying. "Say it."

Sydney shook her head.

"Why?" She uttered the single syllable.

"Why?" Adrian let out a dark chuckle, turning away from her and putting his hand on his face in frustration. He started pacing "Why?" He repeated. "As if you don't know!"

"It wouldn't mean anything if I said it!" She snapped suddenly, startling even herself.

Adrian stopped in his track.

"Wouldn't mean anything? Sydney… that would change… everything."

**A/N: for Zutara Week's third day is up! :) it's titled through Wide, Grey Eyes.  
>Also, Molnija Awards voting is in motion! A Little Bit of This, a Little Bit of That is amongst the nominated stories in the drabble category – please, vote for it :)<strong>


	452. 450 Jokes

**450. Jokes**

**POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 153<strong>

Adrian can be rather infuriating when he is bored.

"Sage, I bet you don't know any good jokes!" He says, throwing himself down at the couch.

Somehow this pisses her off.

"Believe or not, I do know some good jokes!" She huffs. "For example, there's his one: a vampire goes into a bar…"

"I know that," Adrian cuts in.

"Okay, so what about this one? A guy calls the radio…"

"Lame one."

"Al right, so the rabbit meets the bear in the forest…"

"This one is for kids, Sage."

"You know what?" She snaps. "If you are so picky about jokes, then finds some good ones yourself!" And with that she storms out of the room. She doesn't even care that with it, she loses the bet (which she didn't even agreed on in the first place).

She can only smile when Adrian gets her a book full of jokes for her birthday.

**A/N: Zutara week's fourth day is on! My story for is already up :)  
>Okay, so how to vote for this story on Molnija Awards? Look up the Award either as an author as a story in this site, then send a pm to it with the storystories you want to vote for :) It's this easy :)**


	453. 451 Butterflies In My Stomach

**451. Butterflies in My Stomach**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 111<p>

Whenever Adrian is around, Jill's knees start shaking, her palms start sweating, her cheeks get hot, she starts muttering and she feels like there were butterflies in her stomach. Sometimes she even thinks about things she is too ashamed to admit.

And even though he treats her like a little sister, he ruffles her hair (and she hates that), is overprotective of her, joking around with her and looks out for her, technically makes her feel like a child, it doesn't changes.

The butterflies simply won't go away.

And it's just a crush – a tiny-weenie, usual, teenage crush. She is well aware of that.

…She can't wait to fall in love.

**A/N: Zutara Week day 5 submission is up! It's titled Keep Your eyes Open. **


	454. 452 Snow Day

**452. Snow Day**

**POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<strong>

The initial joy of seeing snow cover the Court's grounds fades within hours.

Because the snow quickly changes from gentle falling to a full–blown storm, the soft blanket on the turf to a three-feet-deep blockade. Wind picks up, blowing stronger and stronger until electricity goes out.

And being confined into a dark apartment while the outside world looks like the apocalypse is coming, is not funny at all.

But Rose and Dimitri are creative people – they won't let some storm destroy their day off. No, they are above of that.

And anyway, candlelight is really romantic. As it is lying on blankets in front of the fireplace, while sharing a bottle of wine (wine, not vodka; she swore off of vodka after Baia. And anyway, vodka is not at all romantic). And let's not even talk about making love on the floor, tangled into blankets, in front of the crackling fire.

So no – hey don't let the storm destroy their day.

**A/N: Zutara Week, second to last day: Faded :) Story's up, titled It's Just The Matter of Point of View. **


	455. 453 Arthur Schoenberg

**453. Arthur Schoenberg**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 110<p>

Arthur Schoenberg was a great man – he was brave, clever – cunning, even –, powerful. Ready for sacrifice. Quick to act. A great Guardian.

He could never really give up his profession – he still protected Moroi even after he had officially retired.

He died protecting them. He died fighting, hoping to take Strigoi with him. Just like he wanted.

He was a great man. Somebody who should be remembered.

…Yet, there were only a handful of people on his humble funeral.

Because that what being a Guardian means: giving up your life for people you don't even know that well and not even being praised for it. Because it's your duty.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday – I was so caught up with finishing my last entry for Zutara Week, I didn't have time for a drabble :S But what about if I make it up to you with two drabbles today? :)**


	456. 454 Only in Vegas

**454. Only in Vegas**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 138<p>

Eric was a great lover. A bold man, with brave ideas, what he was ready to carry out.

He was also caring. Generous.

And yes, he liked the skimpily clad girls in the hotel's evening show. He liked how the spotlight glimmered on their pearls and rhinestones. The way they fanned themselves with their feathers. How flirtatious they were. He liked to take them to his room. They made his blood boil.

But only in Vegas.

At home, he was a devoted husband. He went to bed with his wife (yes, he loved her; only she didn't make his blood boil anymore). He played with his children. He ran the family business.

He was caring and sweet and generous. He was a great man.

But he was going crazy in that role.

…Thank God he still had Vegas.

**A/N: This is the last drabble I post as a teenager – I am turning 20 tomorrow. It's kind of scray…**


	457. 455 Whatever

**455. Whatever**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 132<p>

Sydney is, at first, very apprehensive of this new… relationship.

It's not just that Adrian is a Moroi – a vampire – but he is also (well, obviously) a guy. And she doesn't really have experience with guys. At least not in the dating sense of the word.

What if she messes it up? What if she happens to say something she shouldn't say? What if she does something terrible? What if she ends up with her heart broken? What if…?

Of course, according to Adrian, she is just over thinking things. Because being in a relationship is not that complicated. Not at all.

When she freaks out about it (nothing in her life is uncomplicated), he just shrugs, and says:

"Whatever happens, happens. People shouldn't worry about future as much as they do."

**A/N: Reason number one to watch The Amazing Spiderman: Andrew Garfield's butt**


	458. 456 Exhaustion

**456. Exhaustion**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

"Rose, are you ready to go?"

"No."

Her voiced is muffled by the pillow – the very one she is clinging to, like it means the world for her. No, she is not ready to go. Actually, she has no intentions of getting out of bed.

The mattress creaks quietly as Dimitri sits down next to her.

"Hey, I thought we agreed on going jogging every morning?" No answer. "Do you want me to go alone?" There's slight teasing/offended edge in his voice.

"Yes. Go. And let me catch some z's." Just to put some emphasis on her words, she pulls the covers over her head.

"Rose…" He starts softly. "C'mon. Get up! Please!" It doesn't work, so he tries a different approach. "Hey, we could take a shower together afterwards. Now, how does it sound? Rose?"

It's pointless. She is already fast asleep.

**A/N: News about university admissions broke today here in Hungary – I got in :D It wasn't even a close draw: you had to have at least 422 points to get into the major I signed up for, and I had 468 :)**


	459. 457 Graduation

**457. Graduation**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 128<p>

True, Abe hadn't been part of Rose's life for most of her life, but now, that he could act as her father again, he was determined to, on his terms, spoil her rotten. Which, in his books, meant a kick–ass graduation party.

He had everything planned: his private jet would take Rose and her friends to New York, where he rented a whole nightclub for them. He hired baristas, waitresses, a well-known DJ, dancers, and a bunch of Guardians, just in case.

It was the perfect plan for a perfect graduation party.

Then Janine found it out. It wasn't in his plans.

She was furious.

He had to cancel all the party.

(But that doesn't mean that he gave up giving Rose a kick–ass graduation party.)


	460. 458 Queen Bitch

**458. Queen Bitch**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 150<p>

I throw myself down to the chair opposite of Lissa with a loud huff. She doesn't even look up from her book.

"I hate her," I say, crossing my arms on the table and laying my head on them.

"Who is this 'her' right now? Mia? Your mother? A random classmate?" Lissa's voice is mildly uninterested. She is way too used to my tirades by now.

"No. I mean Tatiana."

"And what did she do to deserve this honor?"

"Well… I mean… so… I guess…" I stutter. I mean, there are so many reasons to hate her!

Lissa lets out a heavy sigh, closes her book and stands up.

"If you figured this out, come and find me. Until then I'll snuggle up in a nice place and read my book. Bye, Rose!"

She is halfway out of the library when I call after her.

"Tell Sparky I said hi!"


	461. 459 The Dead

**459. The Dead**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 113<p>

Rose returns to the Academy only once a year – on the anniversary of the Great Battle.

Every year, the school mourns. For a day, the classes are cancelled. Everything is silent. The church is full with praying students. There are candles everywhere, lit in the memory of those who lost their lives in the battle.

This the day when Rose returns.

It's pure masochism, but for this day, she has to be there. No, not to remember what she almost lost that day. No, for somebody else, whom she had lost before the battle, but saw that day for the last time.

On the day of remembrance, she lights a candle for Mason.


	462. 460 Ghosts

**460. Ghosts**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 197<p>

"I don't really like Halloween," Sydney states in a somewhat scared voice. Adrian's ears perk up. He stops in mid–movement – he is putting up something that looks like spider web to the windows – and turns to her.

"Tell me that you are afraid of all my frightening decoration! I've worked hard on it."

A shudder runs through Sydney.

"No!" She protests. "This whole pagan holiday freaks me out. The… the celebration of death with costumes and candy, and all this stuff about the veil between this world and the land of death lifting… I don't want any of it, thank you very much."

"So you are not afraid, let's say, of plastic skeletons?"

She snorts.

"Please, who's afraid of that?" She grabs her purse. "I am out of here. See you tomorrow!"

She walks to the door, opens it and then…

She screams, jumping back.

"I thought you weren't scared of Halloween decorations" Andrian laughs, clutching his stomach. Her reaction was priceless.

"And I am not!" Sydney says irritated, still shaking. "You just caught me off guard, that's all," and with that, she ducks under the ghost puppet hanging from the doorframe and leaves the room.


	463. 461 Head

**461. Head**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 163<p>

This is what Sydney hated the most – decapitated Strigoi corpses.

For her studies she knew that there were three way to kill a Strigoi: one, stab with silver stake in the heart (she could deal with that; it was just a wound on the chest); two, set on fire (it was worse, but still bearable; its smell was terrible, but usually the body was beyond recognition, so she didn't even think about the person the dead Strigoi used to be); three, decapitation. This was the worst.

She didn't know why, but she couldn't handle this way. Seeing the body, with the bloody neck, where the head used to be, and the head itself lying next to the body… Somehow, the further away the head was from the body, the worse feeling she got.

She simply couldn't bear it. Oh, she still dealt with it, if she came across one. She made the body and the head disappear.

But she still had nightmares afterwards.


	464. 462 Mouth

**462. Mouth**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

The question that seemed to occupy about half of the capacity of Dimitri's mind was a rather absurd one: was it normal to constantly think about one's mouth? (And here we have the other half of his mind capacity.)

In his defense, he was thinking about a girl's mouth. But on the other side – the bad side – it was his student's mouth we are talking about.

Not that we can blame him – Rose's mouth was rather shapely one. With full, nicely curving lips, just in the right size compared to her face, with straight, white teeth. It was a quiet beautiful mouth.

And after all, it's a good thing he only fantasized about her mouth (hey, it took half of his brain capacity!). Think about what would happen if he fantasized about her whole body?


	465. 463 Throat

**463. Throat**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

As a human, he liked to watch women's throats – usually, he found it their most erotic part. The slim column of their necks, where it met their shoulders… the soft movements of their gullets as they talked and laughed…

Yes, it was most certainly erotic.

As a Strigoi, he was still attracted to throats, but in a wholly different level. Now the thing he looked for was the way their blood pulsed under the skin, flowing in their veins and arteries…

As a human, he liked kissing women's necks. As a Strigoi, he still liked doing it. He still liked having his way with women, pressing them against walls, kissing them, their necks… Only now, when he got tired of kissing, he bit. Hard. Drawing blood. Sucking the women dry.

And they still enjoyed it.


	466. 464 Elbow

**464. Elbow**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 184<p>

It's one of those super boring lectures in the auditorium, and it's been going on forever, and Rose is starting to get bored. Like really bored.

She doesn't even know what is Kirova talking about (not that it bothers her).

She just wants it over. And soon (fat chance…).

She sighs. She fidgets. She huffs. Nothing makes time go faster, though.

If only Kirova had slideshows…

To her left there is Mason – funny, mischievous, also bored Mason. A sly smile appears on her face.

She elbows him, right in his ribs, just strong enough to make him shift his attention to her. Mason turns to her direction, smiling wickedly. He returns her little shove.

Rose is not somebody to let it go – she elbows him again. He returns it. She shoves again. He shoves back. Each shove is getting stronger and stronger, until it starts to hurt, until…

She falls out of her seat. With a loud, startled shriek. Kirova stops mid-sentence. The whole auditorium quiets in a blink of an eye.

They both end up in detention. But it was so worth it.

**A/N: for the last month, I have been translating House of Night – Destined. I think its style is starting to rub off of me. Thank goodness there're only 95 pages left…**


	467. 465 Fist

**465. Fist**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 171<p>

Maybe it was not the best idea to ask Rose teach her some self defense.

"Now, you put your thumb against your palm and curl your fingers around it… yes, just like that..." Rose coaches her, and Sydney ponders on that it's not the best sign that they are going over how to fist her hands for the last fifteen minutes.

She knows Alchemist stuff – she is one of the best, really. But physical things… not her cup of tea.

"And now, that you are finally ready, hit that dummy! It'll be just like hitting a real man. Aim at the nose – it causes the most pain and it's an easy target. Now, get ready," Sydney does, "aim… and hit!"

And Sydney hits. Right in the dummy's nose.

It hurts like hell.

(Yes, it was definitely a bad idea.)

(She is sure she's broken a bone.)

Rose massages the back of her neck, looking kind of shy.

"Well, maybe you should forget the right hook, and slap whoever is bothering you."

**A/N: Second chapter of my Avatar story Conversations Over Tea is up!**


	468. 466 Hand

**466. Hand**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

After that certain training session, when he noticed the chapping on her hands, Dimitri hates looking at them.

He makes sure not to go outside when it's windy. He makes her wear protective gloves when they are training. He gives her a cream, and reminds her every day to use it on her hands.

They get better, even if barely.

Somehow, he doesn't know why, he thinks that if he can keep her hands pure, untouched, protected, he can also protect her. It's crazy, he knows, but he feels that way.

He wants to buy her a pair of gloves. Nice ones. Fashionable ones. Ones she'll be happy to wear.

At first, he wants to give her them for Christmas, but then Tasha comes, and he never gets around to buy them. Then he postpones it to her birthday – but he isn't himself long enough to do so.

He never gets to give her those gloves.

**A/N: Life is so unfair – my best friend is a great person. Two years ago she had a very serious surgery – it started out as appendicitis, but in the end they had to cut her open three times, and she stayed in the hospital for a month. She's been self-conscious of her scars ever since. Today, she went to a dermatologist, because she has pale spots on her skin. She has to have a mole removed, and it might be malignant. I am really afraid for her :( Why does it have to happen to her?**


	469. 467 Finger

**467. Finger**

POV: Lissa  
>Word Count: 184<p>

Rose is twirling the straw in her cocktail around her finger, her tongue poking out of her mouth. This should be the first warning sign.

"You know…" she starts in a voice that tells me that nothing good can come out of this conversation. "Dimitri is a very good kisser…"  
>I make a noncommittal uhm–sound. I don't know where she is getting at, but I am not sure I want to find out.<p>

"…I mean, not just when he is kissing my mouth. He is rather good and… creative at other places as well. If you know what I am talking about."  
>I know. And I am not happy about it. I feel my face flush.<p>

"And then there are his fingers… damn, the things he can do with his fingers, Liss!"

That's my breaking point. I put my glass down at the counter with a little bit more force than necessary.

"I get it, I really do, and _thanks_ for the mental images, but why the hell are you telling me about it?"

Her grin turns cocky, almost mean.

"Payback, Liss. Payback."

**A/N: Answer to my anonymous ('Guest') reviewer from two days ago: no, sadly I haven't read Nefertiti yet, bit I'd like to. Is it as good as Heretic Queen? :)**


	470. 468 Bottom

**468. Bottom**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

Frowning, Rose considers her neatly folded (Dimitri's doing) clothes placed in neat piles (Dimitri's doing) in the wardrobe. Of course – according to Murphy's laws –, she wants the very shirt from the very bottom.

Sigh.

It won't be pretty.

Sure, she could simply lift the whole pile out, take the shirt from the bottom and then place the pile back. But that's so not Rose.

No – she has to pull that shirt from there. With force.

Inhale. She can do it. Without destroying the whole pile.

Exhale. Let's do it.

She grabs the shirt, puts her other hand against the pile and pulls…

…And the whole pile ends up on the floor.

And this is the exact moment Dimitri chooses to enter the room.

"Rose, what are you–?"

The question dies on his lips as he takes in her girlfriend standing in the middle of the room, a rumpled shirt in her hand, a dozen at her feet lying on the floor.

"I am just… cleaning the wardrobe?"


	471. 469 Knee

**469. Knee**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Guardians often get hurt – mostly while fighting Strigoi, or some other evil forces, like megalomaniacs (as of late), but sometimes, well, during training.

That kind of injury is the most bothersome – at least according to Rose.

She groans in frustration as she lies on the coach, a pillow under, and a pack of ice on the top of her left knee, a pair of crutches propped against the couch.

She hates this.

She groans again (just for good measure).

"Is everything alright?" Dimitri's voice is soon followed by the man himself, emerging from the kitchen with a must of steaming cocoa in hand. "Do you need anything? Painkiller? Massage?" He reaches her, squats down next to the couch and gives her the mug, his face is full of concern.

"Yes, I do need something," she smirks, grabs him by his shirt and pulls him close. She kisses him full on the lips. "You."

Well, maybe it's not that bad to be injured.


	472. 470 Chest

**470. Chest**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

Sydney Sage was a rather impressive person.

She was smart, intelligent, brave, honest. She knew her place in the world and knew her duty – she was even ready to sacrifice her own happiness in the name of duty.

She was also, well… scary. Not only because she had some Alchemist tricks up in her sleeve, no – Sydney Sage herself was a scary being. The way she could stare if he did something stupid – well, stupid, according to her. The way her eyes narrowed and her whole frame seemed to grow and her voiced hiked and… well, she was scary. Period.

But times like this – on one of these rare occasion, when she ditched her boring, conservative clothes for something… sexy(er), with a low neckline like this…

Well, Adrian had a hard time taking her seriously (or even trying to understand what she was saying) when her breasts were staring at him like that.

(Sydney Sage was a rather impressive woman – in more than one aspect.)


	473. 471 Somach

**471. Stomach**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 156<p>

Lissa is pregnant.

This fact itself is… great. Awesome. Really. It's just… I just can't bear it.

I have never seen myself having kids. Never. Not even after I got together with Dimitri. I am just not that type.

But now, looking at Lissa's growing stomach, I just… can't.

They say it comes with territory of being a woman. The desire to reproduce, to nurture is imprinted into our instincts, our minds, our souls. We can't help it. We want it even when, well, even when we don't.

And when we can't – it hurts. It hurts like hell.

Just like now.

I can't be near to Lissa. I can't look at her. I can't put my hand on her stomach to feel the baby kick, even if she insists. I just can't. She is my best friend and I can't.

Because every moment spent with her reminds me of what I'll never have.

And it hurts.


	474. 472 Back

**472. Back**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 164<p>

It's… impossible. There's no better way to put it, but still… it's real. She is real. She is here. And she is herself. His Sonya. She is back.

Mikhail had never thought that this day would come. He had thought that day he would see her again would be the day he died (during fighting her, or ending his own life after he'd plunged a silver stake into her heart, it doesn't matter).

But he is alive – and so she is.

She is warm. Her eyes are blue (though now closed). She is breathing. She is sleeping. She ate, only a few hours ago (steak and potatoes; she still hates peas. He loves that she hates peas).

She is Sonya Karp, the Moroi again. His Sonya.

He runs his hand down her bare back (she still sleeps on her stomach), marvels at her beauty, at the fact that she is here and thanks every deity he knows about that they have given her back.


	475. 473 Feet

**473. Feet**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

Things to do after a whole evening–long banquet, in order:

1, Take shoes off (they are pretty, about after the third waltz with the third nameless royal, they started to make your feet hurt).

2, Drag yourself to the couch (the distance between the door is the couch seems infinite, when in reality, it's only about twenty feet).

3, Flip down to the couch (never mind that you are still wearing your dress from the banquet, which is silk and long and expensive _and_ wrinkles easily).

4. Moan painfully (you are more than entitled to do so. You have endured five hours of social and political torture _in four inch heels_).

5. Require a foot massage from your boyfriend (it's the least he could do for you. He is such a sweet boyfriend anyway. And you are the queen, so damn it).


	476. 474 Thigh

**474. Thigh**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

It's their first night off in forever and they are supposed to go dancing, because Rose loves that, and she has been trying to convince him to do so for months, but he just can't help it.

In Rose's opinion going out means dressing up. It means wearing a dress. Now, Rose rarely wears dresses. Mostly because she is on duty and she is training constantly, and fighting in a dress is rather inconvenient (which is rather unfortunate, since he loves seeing her in a dress; maybe that's why, as a Strigoi, he bought her nothing but dresses). And now she is wearing a dress.

And what a dress…

Tight, fits like a glove. Deep red. Black trim. Low neckline. Slit in the sides, showing of her thighs…

And what thighs she has!

So, he can't help it. He knows that Rose wants to go, but yet, they are staying in. (There's so much skin a man can endure.)

He can only hope that she won't be too disappointed.


	477. 475 Calf

**475. Calf**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 203<p>

"What would you think if I got a tattoo?" I say, just as an offhand comment, during breakfast.

"You already have one. More than one, in fact. I have some, too," Dimitri answers with his back to my while drying the dishes. I know from his tone that he doesn't really think that I am talking seriously. Or, more likely, he doesn't take me seriously.

"No, I mean like a real tattoo – not a molnija." When he doesn't react to my words, I continue. "I am thinking about having something tattooed on my calf. I dunno, maybe a phoenix – you know, that bird that dies and then is reborn again? I think it would fit. And it would look cool – I mean, I am thinking about picturing it with its wings opening, taking off from flames and…"

I leave my sentence unfinished as he slowly turns and looks at me. He doesn't say a word. He is just staring at me, with one eyebrow lifted and it's clear from his expression that he is less than amused. In a way, it's worse than when he is shouting.

I try to look really small.

Well, maybe getting a tattoo is not a good idea.


	478. 476 Foe

**476. Foe**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 192<p>

"I am bored."

"What?"

"I am bored."

"I have heard that – would you please elaborate?"

I groan.

"It's been three months I have seen a Strigoi – three months, Liss! It's just training and training and drills and paperwork and nothing exciting! I haven't even been out of Court in weeks. I need to do something, like, right now. I have to kick some ass."

Lissa giggles. She actually giggles.

"So, if I am not mistaken, your problem is that there hasn't been any kind of trouble for a few weeks?"

"…Yep?"

"You are impossible."

"No, I am a woman who is used to action. Not sitting around."

"Then find something to do! It shouldn't be that hard."

"Are suggesting that I find a new enemy, right here?"

"…No. I honestly don't think that you would need any more enemies. You already have enough in prison."

"And in hell."

"And in hell," she nods.

"But then what should I do?"

"Dunno… something productive?"

"Nah… I don't wanna."

She sighs.

"Then go and pester Christian. You usually like that."

I only take a moment to consider.

"Not a bad idea, Liss. See you later!"

**A/N: Don't ask me what it has to do with the prompt. I repeat: don't ask me :D**


	479. 477 Dimitri's Surprise

**477. Dimitri's Surprise**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 211<p>

Mom? I… I am sorry. I wanted to talk to you in person, but I couldn't reach you. So… I am leaving a message.

…This is awkward.

I am alive. Well, it should be obvious, since I am speaking right now, so… I mean, what I am trying to say is that I am okay. I am myself. Not a Strigoi – not anymore.

I know it's a lot to take in, it's hard for me, too. I have been… back – I think it's the right word – for a while, but there has been so much going on, I couldn't call you. It's… a long story. Really long. I am not even sure you want to hear every part of it.

Scratch that. I am sure that there are parts you don't want to know about.

So, I am okay now. I am at Court. I am with Rose – again. I think you know about… our thing? I am sure you do. She is… not that well right now. But the doctor says she'll be okay. I hope so.

I.. I told you it's a long story. I'll tell you more when I can finally talk to you.

I'd better go back to Rose now. I love you, mom. All of you.


	480. 478 Rose's Surprise

**478. Rose's Surprise**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 133<p>

I just wanted to prepare a romantic dinner for Dimitri – really. I didn't mean all of this happen (because, really, who would?).

It's not my fault that I can't cook (well, it sorta is – but I tried. At least). So, it's so not my fault that the steak burned to crisps (I told you – at least I tried) and that the potato was undercooked. And that the cookies were downright inedible. And that while I was trying to save the dessert, I managed to tear my best dress (so I spent the rest of my evening in my underwear). And that the curtains caught fire (I just had to light the candles in the living room in advance).

So no, it's not my fault. Not at all.

Well, at least Dimitri _was_ surprised.


	481. 479 Adrian's Surprise

**479. Adrian's Surprise**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

"So… how are things going between you and Sydney?"

"Not so good…"

"How so? I thought you two were great – it was just a few days ago that you were babbling about how amazing your last date went!"

"Well, that was before…"

"Before what?"

"You know… I wanted to surprise her a little… just a little, mind you…"

"It doesn't sound good…"

"So I went to her room, and…

"I don't want to hear it…"

"Well, it turns out she didn't like… _me_, if you know what I mean… as well as the others before her."

"Let me get this straight: you went to her room, undressed and waited for her?"

"Yes. In her bed."

Typical Rose–laugh.

"And what did she do?"

"Her eyes widened, stared at me, turned around, left and shut the door behind herself with such a force I though the ceiling will crack. And she's been avoiding me ever since."

"No joking…"

"So, what do you say? What should I do now?" Silence. "Rose?"

"…You are a piece of work, Ivashkov."


	482. 480 Third Time's The Charm

**480. Third Time's The Charm**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 179<p>

Abe proposed to a woman twice so far – both times to the same woman.

At first, when she got pregnant with their child – the baby wasn't planned, and getting married seemed like the right thing to do. He wanted to provide for her and the baby. She laughed at him. It was a teary laugh, but a laugh. She didn't want to get married just because they had a baby on the way.

She didn't want to get married. Period.

The second time took place nineteen years later. Their daughter already a grown woman, her name recently cleared, fate brought them together again for a heated night. He popped the question during the afterglow. She laughed at him again, this time wholeheartedly. She didn't take him seriously.

But now… They have been dating – really dating – for nearly a year. He took her to Paris, damn it! And he has it planned. Every minute of it. He even bought a ring, a decent, three carat diamond ring.

There's no way she'd reject him now.

And anyway – third time's the charm.


	483. 481 Smooch

**481. Smooch**

POV: Sydney  
>Word Count: 137<p>

Life lesson number one: never accept a dare from Rose Hathaway.

I learned it the hard way.

Imagine the following setting: fancy banquet, full of Moroi, whom I would try to avoid under other circumstances. Champagne, silk gowns, tailored suits. And him, in the middle of the crowd.

Me, in less elegant clothes, walking unsteadily, shyly. Stepping up to him, and, without a word, standing on tiptoe, planting a kiss full on his lips.

Planting? Pushing my lips against his.

(I am going to kill Rose)

Me, pulling away, he, flushed, eyes wide, but ready to come up with a snarky comment.

"Don't read too much into it, Ivaskov." I say, turning around, leaving the room before I could get a nervous breakdown.

I am going to kill Rose Hathaway (I repeat this, just for good measure).


	484. 482 Lick

**482. Lick**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

It was a strange dream.

Sydney was at home, in their backyard, playing with her sisters and then there was a dog – a little golden lab pup, yapping and wiggling its tale, obviously happy. It was strange – impossible, really –, because her father would have never allowed a pet in his house.

And anyway, a pet for an Alchemist was an unnecessary burden.

But the dog was there, playful and energetic, jumping into her lap as she was lying on her back in the grass, licking the line of her jaw, her neck, her cleavage… its wet tongue tickling her.

She woke giggling – the even stranger thing than her dream?

She could still feel somebody licking her.

She jumped up with a small shriek, pressing the duvet to her chest.

Adrian smirked at her in the semi–darkness.

"Now tell me it wasn't a pleasant wake up call," he teased her.

Sydney just sighed, not really sure if she wanted to kiss or strangle him.


	485. 483 Stripper

**483. Stripper**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 170<p>

"You know, I went to the movies with Lissa today," I say, plopping down next to Dimitri on the couch. He only up only briefly from his novel – a western one, again – and offers me a small smile. I put my feet into his lap, and after a few moments, he starts to rub my ankle absent mindedly. "It was a pretty good film," I continue when it becomes obvious that he won't ask about it. "Quite interesting plot really – you don't really see films like this often."

He murmurs something under his breath, signaling that he is listening. I frown, not really satisfied with the attention he is paying to me.

"And, you know, this movie made me wonder…" When he still doesn't turn to me, I place my foot on his novel. He turns to me, a little bit annoyed, as his hand is already moving to put my foot away. "So it made me wonder – why have you never tried to make a fortune as a stripper?"

**A/N: I saw Magic Mike today (It's a coincidence that this is today's prompt! :D). It was a quite good film – rather different from what the trailer advertised, but really good. Oh, and usually, I am not pro–3D, but this one – This one I want to see it in 3D :D**


	486. 484 Stripper Pole

**484. Stripper Pole**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 144<p>

She shouldn't even be surprised.

It's the first time Janine visits Abe's apartment at Court (really, it's the first time she is in his house in what? Nearly nineteen years). It's luxurious, of course, and a little bit flashy, but who would expect anything less from Ibrahim Mazur?

Yet it feels strangely… comfortable.

Except this… pole.

A gleaming, chrome pole stands proud in one of the living room's corners, next to an elegant armchair.

She doesn't want to ask, but she has a feeling she knows what it is and why it is there, anyway. She finches at the thought.

Even though she doesn't say a word, Abe notices her staring and standing behind her (and gripping her behind – that old goat) he whispers into her ear.

"What can I say? I always hoped you'd come back."

She. Wants. To. Hit. Him. So. Bad.


	487. 485 Gynecologist

**485. Gynecologist**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

"…If I could do anything I wanted… if I could be free of the Alchemists, I would… travel the world. I would go to Rome and Athens and… I don't even know. I would go and see the most beautiful buildings. And then I would study architecture. And I would buy some vintage cars. Yep, that's what I would do," Sydney muses, lying the hammock next to Adrian, her legs against his shoulder. She doesn't know why she says that; why she is opening up. It just feels good. "And what would you do? If there was nothing to hold you back?"

Adrian hesitates, tapping his finger against his chin in a mocking manner.

"If I could do anything, be anything if I wanted?" He makes a little humming sound. "I think I would be a gynecologist. A prestigious one. I mean, it's good money, and I'd be always between the legs of beautiful women."

Of course he would make a joke out of it…


	488. 486 Lovely

**486. Lovely**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 167<p>

There are so many ways one would describe Rose – and I've heard many of them.

Hot. Sexy. Reckless. Brave. Strong. Crazy. Daring. Hot-tempered – just to name a few.

But I know nobody who would say that she's lovely. Absolutely nobody. But I know better.

Because nobody sees her just before she wakes up – when her hair is tangled, and she is hugging her pillow close, while hogging all the blankets. When her eyelids flutter and she mumbles something unintelligible. When we are having breakfast, and she is not even half–awake before her first cup of coffee, so out of it that she would put salt into her mug if I didn't stop her. When in the evening, when both of us are finished with work she plops down on the couch beside me, leans against my side, snuggling close, suggesting to put in a DVD, just to fall asleep halfway through the film.

Rose is lovely. You just have to see her at the right time.


	489. 487 Summertime

**487. Summertime**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 136<p>

"Do you remember the times when we were actually anticipating summer?" I ask, lying down on my desk, not even having enough willpower to sit up straight.

Eddie grunts at the neighboring desk, his feet on the table, his head tilted back, so I can only see his chin.

"Good times… good times…"

I wipe the sweat from my brow.

"When we didn't have to do pointless tasks in an office with no air conditioning!" I continue, my voice hiking with every word.

"I want a cold beer…" Eddie moans, putting his hand over his eyes.

"I want a cold bath…" I add.

"And I want you to get started on your work!" Hans barks into the office startling us. I sit up straight in an instant and Eddie…

…Well, Eddie ends up on the floor.

**A/N: We are experiencing a heat wave around here – I can only exist in shorts and bikini top…**


	490. 488 Lingerie

**488. Lingerie**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

"I wonder what Sage's wearing," Adrian says absent-mindedly, while nursing a drink.

"What?" Eddie asks, not listening quite enough to him to really get the meaning of his words. "As I can see a beige skirt and a white blouse," he shrugs, taking in the girl standing a few meters from them.

Adrian snorts.

"Castile, you really don't know what I mean?" Short pause. "I mean what she's wearing… underneath."

"You mean as in… lingerie?"

"Exactly, young padawan. What do you think? Granny panties? Boy shorts? Thongs?"

It's Eddie's turn to snort.

"Why don't you just ask her?"

"As if… I am much classier than that. But maybe I could get a glimpse, if I…"

Eddie has to fight down the urge to slap his forehead.

**A/N: Kudos to the Hungarian Nickelodeon – They start airing Legend of Korra – dubbed – tomorrow. (And it's proceeded by the whole Avatar series aired within two days, thirty episodes a day :P)**


	491. 489 Whipped Cream

**489. Whipped Cream**

POV: Lissa  
>Word Count: 164<p>

Sometimes I really think something is wrong with Rose. Just like now.

A few hours ago it seemed like a good idea to invite Rose for a little treat – a new ice cream parlor has just opened at Court, and it was supposed to be really good. Like really, really good. And it's been so long since we did something together, that wasn't Guardian-related.

Now, it doesn't seem like a good idea.

Rose is sitting opposite of me, her face blank, as if she is in trance, her tongue peeking out of her mouth, her spoon hovering in the air above the whipped cream and cherry topped, absolutely delicious looking ice cream.

She looks slightly insane.

"Rose?" I say softly, trying not to draw attention. Hearing my voice she suddenly snaps out of it, shakes her head and her eyes find mine.

"Sorry, Liss. But after last night… I don't think I'll ever be able to look at whipped cream the same way again."

**A/N: My new Avatar: the Last Airbender one-shot, titled _Scars_ if up :)**


	492. 490 Strawberries

**490. Strawberries**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 125<p>

There was something adorable in this scene.

Lissa lying on the sofa, her feet rested on the armrest, a maternity magazine propped against her thighs, one hand on her round stomach, the other alternating between turning the pages of the magazine and picking up strawberries from the blow placed on the coffee table next to her.

Christian wasn't sure what made this picture of complete peace so alluring – maybe that it was the picture of complete peace, maybe it was that his wife was smiling that secret, content smile.

Christian smiled to himself, too, standing at the doorway. He would do anything to see Lissa this relaxed more often.

…Even if it meant going to the store for strawberries at the middle of the night.


	493. 491 Whips

**491. Whips**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

"Y'know, Rose, I find it hard to believe that you and Dimitri, out of all people, would need…" Mia stops mid-sentence, her attention entirely occupied by a package of penis-shaped gummies. After a few moments she frowns, shakes her head and continues. "…Anything, to shake up your sex life."

Rose only shrugs, while eyeing some frilly, way-too-short, black and white dress. Mia assumes the piece of clothing is supposed to be a French maid costume.

"It's not that we _need_ it – not at all –, it's just that I want to surprise him a little."

"And for your little surprise, we just _had_ to visit a sex shop."

"Of course!" Rose states in an unfittingly cheerful tone. "What do you think of this?" She holds up a small whip, ending in tiny tassels.

Mia grimaces.

"Why don't we take a look at those… edible thongs over there? Don't get me wrong, but somehow they still look less perverted than this."

**A/N: I think I stepped over a line here XD Anyway, while I have never been to a se shop, a friend of mine has (with a former teacher of hers, shopping for the said teacher's son's 18th birthday. Just saying), and she told me about the penis shaped gummies – so, they do exist. **


	494. 492 Tease

**492. Tease**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

"…Sometimes, honestly, Adrian drives me mad with all his teasing. One moment he's alright, and in the next he says or does something that makes me… blush and stutter and… What could do about him, Rose?"

Rose took a large sip of her coffee before answering.

"First of all – you tell me that Adrian is infuriating? Please, I wanted to kill him for his stupidity long before you did. Secondly – you have to fight fire with fire. In simpler words: tease back."

Sydney's eyes widened.

"Rose, I am not sure you know me well, but I am not really that teasing type of girl."

Rose merely shrugged.

"But you still have two great weapons you can use against him."

"Really? What?"

Without any kind of warning, Rose reached forward and – of course, without permission – undid the top button of Sydney's blouse.

"These girls. Use them well!"

**A/N: Wish me luck, guys! I organized my class schedule for this semester today, and if I get accepted to all classes my timetable'll be great :) Monday is though, but I have only one class on Tuesday (and that ends at 10 a.m.), and no classes in Friday :)**


	495. 493 Carrots

**493. Carrot**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 182<p>

Christian really just wanted to be nice. Really, really nice. He didn't do it often, but this occasion simply called for it.

He and Lissa had just found out that they were expecting – and so he prepared a lavish (and, of course, surprise) dinner for Liss.

Creamy cheddar cream soup with little cubicles of toast. Steak, with a special seasoning he tried for the first time, and for which he had to travel two hours to get a certain needed spice. Smashed potatoes and steamed corn and carrots for side dish. Chocolate soufflé. Sparkling cider, because he just couldn't have a pregnant woman drink alcohol.

The evening even started out well. Lissa was touched by his actions. She loved the soup.

The thing started to go downhill when he served the main course – when he uncovered the steak and the side dish Lissa promptly covered her mouth with her hand and dashed from the room. A few moments later he could hear her retching from the bathroom.

Who knew that the smell of carrots would turn her so called 'morning sickness' on?

**A/N: Sorry for the delay :( There was some kind of problem with the site yesterday evening, and I couldn't upload this chapter :S**


	496. 494 Elephant

**494. Elephant**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 173<p>

Rose tried not to look too suspicious. She wasn't good at it.

She was fidgeting in her seat, leaning forward again and again, watching the others – or more likely, one certain person – opening their Christmas gifts, her own packages lying half-forgotten in her lap and around her feet.

Dimitri was starting to look at her strangely.

She was practically bouncing with excitement now.

Adrian was slowly getting through his pile – a minute or two and then… Bingo. Just the right present.

Rose couldn't wipe the grin off her face as Adrian tore the wrapping paper off of the small package and uncovered the present she'd bought for him.

She burst out laughing when Adrian held up the garment with his eyes wide.

It was an underwear, but a rather crafty one – a thong meant for men, the front covered by big elephant ears, googly eyes and… and yes, and actual trunk, meant for the… well, I don't think it needs to be explained.

The little elephant worth every cent she'd spent on it.

**A/N: My best friend once bought an underwear like that because of a bet :D I was the unlucky fellow who had to go into the store with her, because she wouldn't dare to go alone :D**


	497. 495 Marine

**495. Marine**

POV: None  
>Word Count: 109<p>

"Dimitri?... Have you ever thought about what would you do, what would you be, if being a guardian wasn't an option anymore?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"Dunno. Just curious. So?"

"If I couldn't be a guardian anymore?"

"Yep."

"But I could be anything I wanted? No ties, no restrictions?"

"Exactly."

"Well… maybe I'd join the army. Be a marine. It's… something close to being a guardian and you are still helping others."

"That's nice."

"But the real question is – if I really were a marine and would have to go abroad, would you wait for me?"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't wait a minute. I'd go after you."

**A/N: I didn't want to spoil this little something with descriptions, but I imagine this little dialogue to be a nice little pillow talk :) Anyway, I wanted to thank all of you your attention and loyalty, especially last month :) In August, I had over 44K hits! (About 3K more than last month) You rock, guys! :)**


	498. 496 LOL

**496. LOL**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 164<p>

Abe had long ago regretted buying Janine that laptop (even though the purchase had seemed like a good idea at that time).

If there had been such thing as I.T. analphabet, Janine was most definitely one – even if she was slowly getting better. (Hey, she could use Word almost effortlessly by now, and she'd managed to send a flawless e–mail only a few days ago.) But this only brought on more severe problems…

Most recently, Janine had been exploring the shady realms of the internet – Facebook, different chatrooms, forums and such. And these things made her ask question. Stupid, trivial questions. And even though Abe had gently reminded her that their daughter, in fact, had had Computer Studies, she still came to him with her questions.

…Abe loved her, he truly did, but when she asked if LOL was some kind of secret code for an uprising in making (he had no idea where this had come from), he wanted to strangle her.

**A/N: You would be surprised how dense middle aged women can be when computers are involved… I literally spent five minutes on the phone today trying to explain my aunt how to send me a link through Facebook…**


	499. 497 Paper Mache

**497. Paper Mache**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

"Rose, what… are you doing?" Dimitri asks tentatively as he steps into the living room of their apartment. His beloved is sitting by the newspaper-covered coffee table, her hands covered in some kind of grayish goo up to her elbows, while she is trying to mold the said goo into some kind of shape.

"Er… paper mache?" Her answer is just as careful as his question. He steps closer and crouches down next to her.

"And why, if I may ask?"

She shrugs.

"The shrink said doing something creative should help with my pent up frustration about… well, about you know what."

He hangs his head – he knows well. The news of Lissa's pregnancy has taken its toll on her – on them.

"And is it helping?" He asks, trying to change the topic. Rose only scowls as she holds up a little of the goo and lets it drop back to the bowl on the table.

"As if. Right now the only thing that would help with my frustration would be throwing it to the wall."

**A/N: Ah, I did my fair share of paper mache back in the day in crafts club, years ago. :) Really, the most frequent techniques were paper mache and decoupage. **


	500. 498 Homework

**498****. Homework**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 201<p>

If you think that after high school you'll be free of homework – you are deadly wrong. I used to think that, too, but life has wronged me.

Or, more likely, Hans has wronged me – with his paperwork. Reports, forms, statistics… Who knew that being a guardian entailed so much paperwork? (I didn't.)

I sign my last report for the night with such force that the point of the pen breaks through the paper. Hans'll most likely make a fuss about it, but I just couldn't care less.

"What angers you so much?" Dimitri asks, dragging a chair next to me and sitting on it.

"Hans and his stupid, stupid, stupid…" I pull the next piece of paper closer – a form about a recently staked Strigoi –, but in my frustration I am closer to tearing it to pieces than filling it out. The only thing preventing me to kill the poor form is Dimitri's warm hand over mine.

"Stop it," he says softly. He leans closer and kisses my forehead. "I'll do it. I know everything about the case. Just go home. Rest. I'll follow you soon."  
>I let out a relieved sigh.<p>

"You are the best, you know that, right?"


	501. 499 Teeth

**499. Teeth**

POV: None  
>Word Count: 130<p>

"Rose?"

"Yeah, Sydney?"

"You've seen many Strigoi, right?"

"I've had my fair share so far, so yes."

"And… What are they like?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"I am just curious. So?"

"They are terrifying. They are horrible. Especially when you have known them before… well, you know, before."

"And what was it like for you the first time?"

"What do you think? It was terrible. She was… she was a friend. Not a very close one, but a friend. And I saw her die. At least for the second time. I had nightmares about her after that for months. About the red in her eyes. That feral look on her face. Her teeth."

"And will this memory – your first Strigoi sighting – ever go away?"

"No. But it'll get better."


	502. 500 Witch

**500. Witch**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 164<p>

"That girl is scary."

"Which one?"

"Yes, the 'witch one'."

Dimitri looks at me disapprovingly, with one of his eyebrows raised.

"Why? This new girl _is_ scary." The scowl stays, so I continue. "The other day she looked at me in the office in that mean witch-way, and I fell from my chair!"

"You were swinging on it. You were challenging your fate – you falling had nothing to do with her."

"And what about yesterday? When I _most certainly_ brought my report to the office, yet when Hans asked for it and I couldn't find it? She was right there beside me, smirking to herself!"

"…Rose," Dimitri sighs. "You are simply messy. I am pretty sure she had nothing to do with it." He massages the bridge of his nose. "And anyway, let's say she _is_ a witch – which she's not – why would she mess with you?"

"She wants you and she's jealous, that's why!" I blurt out without thinking. Dimitri bursts out laughing.


	503. 501 Crown

**501. Crown**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 162<p>

"Rose, don't play with my crown."

"I am not playing with it!" I protest while lying on the couch, twirling the crown – more like coronet, really – around my fingers. "I am just examining it."

Lissa just sighs and sits down beside me.

"And why, pray tell me, does my Guardian have to examine my crown? Afraid that it's been poisoned?"

"It might be – I can't tell for sure before it's thoroughly examined," I joke, lifting the jewel to my eyes, squinting a little. Lissa snatches the crown from my hands.

"Do you think I should get a new one?" She muses. "I mean, it was Tatiana's; I feel strange knowing that she used to wear this. It's like wearing a dead man's clothes."

Her words make sense.

"And it doesn't even match your eyes," I nod. "So you should definitely get a new one." I take the coronet back from her. "But if you do… Can I sell this one on eBay?"


	504. 502 Life

**502. Life**

POV: Lissa  
>Word Count: 136<p>

Life is short – way too short. For dhampirs even more so than for Moroi.

Somehow I had an illusion that Rose would always be there for me, like she had been since pre-school. I had never thought about parting ways. It had always seemed impossible. We were an item. She and me. Me and she.

And then she… died.

Life is crazy – it can end so easily.

They said the mission was a piece of cake. Three, maximum four Strigoi in an enclosed area against more than a dozen guardians. It's an instant victory, they said.

They were wrong.

I don't know what went wrong – I don't even want to know.

She didn't come back.

After nearly thirty years together, she just simply had the nerve to die.

Life is crazy. And it's way too short.


	505. 503 Force

**503. Force**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 125<p>

"Rose, it was a pleasure to know you," Eddie said one morning as he came into the office all mock-solemnly, shaking my hand.

"What?" I asked wide-eyed, not really getting what he meant.

"I am dead. Very, very dead," he added, then, seeing my still completely clueless expression, he continued: "I don't have the report Hans asked for yesterday. So I am sure he's gonna kill me – slowly and painfully."

Despite of the situation – even though he was no murderer, Hans really got angry when he didn't get his reports on time (I would know – I am the Queen of the land of Late Reports) – I couldn't help but grin.

"Worry do not, young padawan!" I told him, patting his shoulder. "Just use the force!"

**A/N: Okay, I really don't know why I ended this this way… XD Anyway, about yesterday's drabble: do not worry, I am not wrapping it up yet :) I'll continue my drabbles as long as I have prompts :) And not all drabbles take place in the same continuity: remember, I have already written a drabble where Rose and Lissa go back to St. Vlad's for their kids' graduation :) Did I want to make you cry? Maybe :P But what is writing for, if not calling emotions forth? I can't make you laugh every time – sometimes you have to cry, too :) And in that drabble Rose didn't die in her late twenties – more likely in her mid-thirties. Remember, she and Lissa met when they were about five :)  
>…Oh, and please, wish me luck tomorrow! It's gonna be my first day at university!<strong>


	506. 504 Stake

**504. Stake**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

Dimitri planned to give her a silver stake for her graduation.

It seemed like a good idea at that time – a stake, from mentor to student, seemed like a generic enough gift, yet it was meaningful and he could have had some nice, specific, personal cravings added. Like a rose – as cheesy and clichéd as it is, he wanted to have a rose engraved on that stake.

And then, long before her graduation, Dimitri was turned. He never had the chance to give her that stake.

Thinking back, he finds the situation somewhat ironic now – like a cosmic joke. Because had he been turned a few months later, or had he decided to present her with the stake on her birthday, she might have gotten it – with the help of somebody else, for example Alberta, maybe. And then, he might have died by it – by the rose plunged deep into his heart.


	507. 505 Wood

**505. Wood**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 150<p>

There is something about men working – I mean doing hard, manual labor that makes them sweat. Because really, sweaty men are sexy.

It's the best when they are shirtless – when you can see the planes of their chests and stomachs, and the muscles on their arms work. It's just simply mouth-watering.

Now, I am not partial to any kind of the sweaty-sexy work – building a house or repairing the highway both works for me (at least as long as there are sexy men involved). But – here comes the 'but', what technically kills my last sentence – there is something about cutting firewood. Out in the backyard. Shirtless. A little bit dirty. Especially if the man doing the hard work is the man you go to sleep with every night.

I let a dreamy sigh escape my lips.

"Rose? Could you please ogle my brother in a less disturbing way? Thank you!"

**A/N: This reminds me – has anybody read Richelle's short story in Foretold? Is it good? I couldn't get my hands on it yet :(**


	508. 506 Pancakes

**506. Pancakes**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 181<p>

If he wanted, Adrian could be nice. Really, really nice. Honestly, he was a nice guy at heart.

But this doesn't mean that every deed he did fuelled by good intentions ended up great. Some of them ended up… not so great. Sometimes they ended up on the border of a catastrophe (but we can't judge him by that. He only wanted to be nice.)

Like that one occasion when he thought that it would be nice to wake up early after a night spent with Sydney and make her pancakes for breakfast. See? He only wanted to be nice.

The problem started with this being-the-nice-guy-scenario with the fact that he had no idea what to do in the kitchen. He was absolutely clueless. That's how he put salt into the dough instead of sugar, and somehow he managed to spill it all over the kitchen and himself.

But it was okay – Sydney had a good laugh over it, and told him that she didn't even like pancakes, anyway.

…And asked him to stay out of the kitchen from then on.

**A/N: Anyway, just some random trivia – Hungarian pancakes are very different from American ones :P Ours are really, really thin (like 1-2 mms), they are covered in jam, cocoa powder, nutella, sweet cottage cheese or something like that, and them rolled up (or folded into a quarter of a circle). And sometimes they are eaten as a mean course. **


	509. 507 Honeymoon

**507. Honeymoon**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 124<p>

They had agreed that it was completely pointless to get married. They didn't need to sign a paper to be happy, to be with each other. And anyway, Rose had never been able to envision herself as a blushing bride clad in white, and getting married wasn't even in custom where Dimitri had come from.

So tying the knot wasn't in their plans. Not at all.

And Rose was okay with it – mostly. But there were days when she was missing something. No, not the ring from her finger (that would have been quiet bothersome, especially while fighting and wielding a silver stake). No, she was missing a completely different thing…

"Dimitri? Do you think we could go to a honeymoon, without getting married?"

**A/N: This morning I saw a guy on the underground – that typical absentminded professor-type: tall, lanky, too big suit jacket, corduroy trousers, messy, grey-blond hair. Dreamy expression. I went to the university. He turned out to be my professor :D**


	510. 508 Leaf

**508. Leaf**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 215<p>

It was pointless to deny it – Adrian could paint. Damn it, he was pretty good.

Sydney stood in the small room, taking in the array of the half-done and finished paintings of flowers, landscapes and, of course, scantily clad girls.

"They are good, aren't they?" Adrian's words came from the doorway. "Don't be afraid to say so. I can take praise well."

Sydney let out a little sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

"To give you a reason to be even more egoistical than you already are? I would rather not."

"Oh, come on, Sage, it's not that hard to say it!" He stepped close, right behind her back, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Okay, then don't admit it. But just wait until you see my next creation! Now, that'll be a masterpiece – a self-portrait." He swept his hand in front of her face – she almost giggled. But only almost – as if to illustrate the greatness of his upcoming picture. "It's going to be a full-body picture. Nude, of course. But I plan to place a leaf to my parts that…" his voice dropped an octave, "…shouldn't be seen."

"Well, then you'll need a really big leaf. Or a bunch of regular ones. It'll take some green to cover all of you."


	511. 509 Heat

**509. Heat**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 180<p>

The apartment they had at Court was great, really – a cute little one-bedroom, the walls painted in warm, cheerful colors, the furniture all nice and matching and all. So yeah – it was great.

But why the hell couldn't they install a damned air conditioning?!

Rose groaned as she lay in their bed stark naked, her body drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around her feet. It didn't matter if she closed the blinds when the sun rose – it just got hotter and hotter in the room as the day progressed.

"I don't know how much longer I can bear this…" She sighed, fanning herself with her hand.

"According to the paper, the heat wave should end by the end of the week," said Dimitri as he emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair in a towel, clad in nothing but in a dark blue towel around his waist.

Rose's eyes opened wide as she sat up and took him in.

"Now, thinking about it…" she said with a naughty smirk. "Maybe this heat wave is not that bad at all."


	512. 510 Police

**510. Police**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 150<p>

"Thanks for getting me out. I really appreciate it."

"I let you out of my sight for a few hours…"

"Don't look at me like that, Dimitri. You would've done the very same thing, were you in my place."

Heavy sigh.

"Sure, I would have gotten him off of that girl, but I wouldn't have broken his nose as well!"

"Well, he asked for it! I had been watching him for some time – he was downright terrible. A real asshole. If you ask me, he deserved everything he got."

A frown. Fingers massaging the bridge of his nose.

"But still… did you absolutely have to get yourself arrested?"

"No, but…"

"Don't even say a word. I guess I have already heard it all." Short pause. "You know what, Rose? Next time you go out, I am going with you. Just for precaution."

"For precaution. Of course."

A smirk.

A kiss.

**A/N: My new Avatar one-shot, the third one in the Conversations Over Tea series is up! :)**


	513. 511 Cinnamon

**511. Cinnamon**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

Sydney was only slightly surprised to find Adrian on her doorstep the morning after they had had a row. What she found the fact more startling that he had a sheepish expression on his face, a big, plastic cup of coffee in one hand, and a paper bag in the other.

"Adrian? What are you-"

"I came here to apologize," he cut in before she could have finished the sentence. "I was an ass yesterday. I really was. And… I just want to make it up to you, okay?" He took a deep breath. "So I brought you coffee," he handed her the cup, which she took without saying a word, "and a cinnamon roll. I hope you'll forgive me."

Sydney had never though that she would use this word to describe Adrian Ivashkov, but that moment the boy was incredibly and almost unbelievably cute.

…So cute that she didn't have the heart to tell him that she hated cinnamon.


	514. 512 Mom

**512. Mom**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

Contrary to popular belief (well, a lot of people were on this opinion, anyway), Lissa and Christian had lot in common.

One of these things, sadly, was the lack or parents.

Oh, they got by. They were strong. They survived – they had to. But still, there was that ache in their hearts that never seemed to go away.

Things only got worse around mother's day every year; it was painful for them to watch everybody getting ready, buying gifts, preparing surprises (even Rose bought a card usually). But they got through of this as well.

They spent every mother's day together, sitting on the floor, two lit candles – mementos of two precious women – in front of them on the coffee table, sharing stories about their moms.

It was still painful, yes. But it was all they had.


	515. 513 Ceremony

**513. Ceremony**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 138<p>

Despite of what she'd done, somehow we all wished that she would be sentenced to prison, but it was up to the Royal Council to judge, and they had decided – Tasha had to die for what she'd done.

And death, in their eyes, wasn't even enough – she had to die alone, without her family, without her friends. The council didn't even let us bury her; we couldn't even know where they put her body. We couldn't even mourn her.

And yet we did. All of us – Christian, Lissa, Dimitri, everybody who had been close to her, or at least something like that, even me – gathered together in her old apartment. We lit a candle for her and recalled pleasant memories.

It hurt. It felt wrong.

…But to let her go without a goodbye would have felt even worse.

**A/N: Finally, I bought a real, honest-to-god corset – metal clasps on the front, lacing on the back :D I have wanted one for like forever. And true, it's from a second-hand shop, and there's a little something that has to be repaired, but it's still beautiful :) Also, there's a new poll on my profile, please vote! Thank you. **


	516. 514 Flowers

**514. Flowers**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 154<p>

Everything started with a little bouquet of yellow lilies – Adrian said that he'd bought them to ask for her forgiveness for being a jerk (even though recently he hadn't been _half_ of a jerk he used to be not a long ago). It was a nice gesture, really, and she shouldn't have said that she wasn't fond of lilies. She really shouldn't have.

…Because the next morning she got chrysanthemums. Then roses. Then orchids. Then daffodils. In a week, her room ended up looking like a florist's store.

When she asked him about it, he said that he would keep sending the flowers until he found her favorite.

Sydney knew – well, at least she had a good guess – that she should have been annoyed by this, but somehow she found it endearing and a part of her wanted the flowers to keep coming.

So she didn't tell him that her favorite flower was sunflower.


	517. 515 Dandelions

**515. Dandelions **

POV: None  
>Word Count: 107<p>

"How much do you remember about your parents?"

"Not much… They were nice. They loved me."

"Nothing else?"

"We lived in the country – we had this big house. Or at least it seemed big to me. And there was this big garden, or park, around it. Nothing much, mostly just fruit trees and dandelions – millions of dandelions. In spring, sometimes my father would take me out just before bedtime as the sun rose, just to pick a few dandelions for my mother. And she would smile and kiss my cheek and put the flowers into a tiny vase. But then…"

"But then?"

"But then they turned Strigoi."


	518. 516 Wishful Thinking

**516. Wishful Thinking**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 111<p>

Everybody has dreams – no matter how adamantly some try to deny it. It's in human nature. Most dream of big things – of fame and fortune, of adventure and epic battles.

Dimitri is no exception, even though, at first sight, his dreams don't seem so grand. He dreams of – he wants – simple things, a simple life – a little house with yard. Peaceful family life. A loving wife with tanned skin and dark eyes. Children, maybe.

His dreams don't look grand at all. Honestly, they look completely reachable.

But this doesn't mean that he is any closer to them than anybody else – not at all.

No. His dreams are completely impossible to reach.


	519. 517 Pillow

**517. Pillow**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 138<p>

Rose was a real pillow-hogger. Some people hogged blankets, but not her. She hogged fluffy, Dimitri-smelling pillows whenever she had the chance to do so. And she did all this asleep, or at least half-asleep, unconsciously and in a blink of an eye. If Dimitri happened to leave the bed at night for five minutes to visit the bathroom, he would sure find his spot taken upon returning.

The only problem was that he couldn't be mad at her for this pillow-hogging. Honestly, he doubted that anybody could.

Because Rose, her legs on her intended side on the bed, but her torso on his, her head on his pillow, arms hugging it close to her chest, mouth slightly open, soft snores escaping from it… Well, Dimitri found this sight beyond adorable.

(But he still had to sleep somewhere.)

**A/N: Am I losing my edge? Because the stats for this story are dropping… :S Are still enjoying it?**


	520. 518 Vintage

**518. Vintage**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

"I can't believe you kept this." Sonya says, smiling slightly, her fingers caressing the cold stained glass surface of the lamp. It's clear on her face that she can hardly believe she sees the lamp again.

Mikhail doesn't say a word, only smiles.

They found the lamp together, years ago, on a garage sale. He hated it from the very first moment – he found it kitschy. She loved it from the moment she laid her eyes on it – she thought it was beautiful.

He wanted to leave it where it was. She wanted to buy it right away. They even had a row about that.

"…But look at it, it's so old and…" Mikhail stated, trying to find a valid point against the lamp, but Sony simply huffed and pouted in that angry-adorable way, and said:

"It's not old, it's vintage!"

He laughed. They bought the lamp. Then it sat on Sonya's desk till the day she Turned. Then it was moved to his bedroom.

"I would have never been able to get rid of it."

**A/N: thank you so much for your support! I would have never thought that little comment would launch such a review-avalanche :) You are the best! I hope I'll be able to keep up with your expectations, and I promise I'll try to keep to your suggestions – like more first person POVs and more characters :)**


	521. 519 Lonely

**519. Lonely**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 138<p>

Sometimes, Natalie felt like she was invisible. A ghost.

She was there – yet she wasn't. She had friends – yet she didn't. She was there – and yet nobody saw her.

She walked among her peers, almost completely unnoticed. She wasn't hated or looked down on – no, it was worse. They looked right through her. Like she wasn't there.

She knew she wasn't interesting enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. And she didn't even want to be the centre of attention (well, maybe she did…), she only wanted people to see her. To talk to her. To touch her. To appreciate her.

But she was who she was – plain, old, boring Natalie Dashkov. The good girl, the quiet girl, the boring girl. The one with superficial friends.

_ But it would change now…_

And then she sunk her teeth into Mr. Nagy.

**A/N: A little bit of trivia – Nagy is an actual Hungarian surname (and adjective, when written with no capitalization) and it means 'big'. It's a pretty common name, actually I think the second most common, right after Kovács (Smith).  
>Oh, and before I forget: a new AtLA one-shot of mine by the title of Better Late Than Never is up! :)<strong>


	522. 520 Seven Days

**520. Seven Days**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 152<p>

Phases of Dimitri-withdraw While He's on a Week-long Trip with Christian, written by Rose Hathaway (my glorious self):

Day one: Things are looking up. He only left a few hours ago. I am good.

Day two: I am grumpy. I woke up alone. It sucks.

Day Three: Spent nearly an hour on the phone with him. Now I am curled up on his side of the bed wearing one of his shirts.

Day Four: Midway. I am completely unfit for work. Hans sends me home, saying I look sick.

Day Five: All day spent curled up on the couch, watching western movies. I thought it would help. It didn't.

Day six: One more day to go. No energy to leave the bed. Tried texting. Then sexting. Didn't work.

Day seven: He's coming home in a few hours. Flat's a mess. I'm a mess. Better get down to work.

But he's coming home!

**A/N: Okay, it might be a little bit exaggerated, but for the lulz… yeah, I think it works for the lulz :D**


	523. 521 Shame

**521. Shame**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

There were many single women in Baia. Dhampir women. Sometimes they had Moroi lovers, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes their lovers were the fathers of their children, sometimes they weren't. Sometimes they had only one lover, sometimes they had more. They were all single mothers. Just like her mother. Just like her sister. And they were respected.

And yet, she…

The whole town knew about Sonya's pregnancy about two days after she had learned about it. News like that spread like wildfire in such small towns as Baia. The people didn't actually say anything – they just stared. Openly. With pity. Sometimes with sympathy, too. Sometimes with disdain.

Sonya was sure she would never be able to walk on the streets of Baia with her head high again.

**A/N: I am working on two Zutara pieces simultaneously – on the fourth chapter of Conversations Over Tea, and an other, light-hearted, family one-shot. We'll see which one will be finished sooner :P**


	524. 522 Nighttime

**522. Nighttime**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 186<p>

The bar is shady and smells of liquor; most of the patrons are no different.

He singles out the girl at the counter almost immediately. She is different. Purer. Out of place. He takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent.

Delicious.

He walks to her, greets her; they engage in small talk. She laughs, throwing her head back. The curve of her neck is arousing. He wants to taste her.

…Yet, there is something amiss with her, but she can't point out what.

He doesn't even notice the man watching them with slanted eyes from afar.

It's no long before they are on their way to the alley behind the bar. He is restless. She is enchanting. He doesn't see the man following them.

He is just about to kiss her neck, just about to sink his teeth into her and taste her blood, when the man garbs him from behind. He doesn't even have to realize what's going on.

The next moment the girl plunges a silver stake into his heart. Then everything goes black.

The girls smiles up on her partner.

"Good job, Comrade."

**A/N: I have already started writing it when I realized that the Strigoi should have felt them, but I was simply too stubborn to abort the idea :P And anyway, Lissa was once able to sell herself and Rose as humans, I am sure she could have managed to veil Rose and Dimitri from Strigoi as well. **


	525. 523 Daytime

**523. Daylight**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

He was hesitant. Unsure. _Afraid_.

One tentative step forward; then one backwards. He glances around, taking in the Guardians in the room. They are waiting for him to act. To decide. To do something.

They are not very patient.

A sight. A step forward. Then one more. A glance backwards.

Hans nods. He sighs again.

One more step. His hand is on the door handle.

Deep breath. He can do it. It's okay. Nothing will happen. Nothing.

But what if…?

No, he stops himself. It's pointless. It has to be done, it has to end – one way or the other.

He opens the door and steps outside.

He feels the sun on his face for the first time in months. It's caressing him.

Dimitri almost smiles.

**A/N: The pumpkin festival is going on in my town (just for comparison: about 5000 people live here. Last year we had 30000 visitors in three days, so it's kind of a big deal). And I am doing volunteer work… Or at least did. At the pumpkin craving stand, working with little kids. It's fun. The kids are nice. But after about four hours you want to burn all the pumpkins. I did 8 hours yesterday and today as well. I had not a minute to sit down (we had 300 kids in three hours yesterday…). I am completely spent. The best thing? We ran out of pumpkins. So no carving tomorrow :D**


	526. 524 Infertility

**524. Infertility**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 220<p>

"Which one is yours?"

The question catches Rose off guard. She turns to the woman who spoke – a plain, ordinary housewife, judging by her looks – sitting on the neighboring bench. She looks open, friendly, eager for her answer.

"None," Rose answers quietly, but when the woman's face turns suspicious she quickly ads, pointing at Zoya, who is standing on the top of the slide. "Well, that little girl there. But she's not mine; she's only my niece. Well, my husband's niece."

"Oh…" The woman says, with understanding in her voice. "You have none on your own?"

"No," she shakes her head, looking down on the grass. She doesn't want to have this conversation. "We can't."

"I am sorry," says the woman, and Rose knows she means it. She stands up, walks to her, sits down beside her and places her hand on Rose's shoulder. "But don't you lose all hope! There are so many things you could try… IVF, a surrogate, and then there's some new method I've heard of…"

"None of them would work," she sighs. "Believe me – we have done our research."

There's a little pause. Rose watches Zoya slid done the slide, then go back to the end of the line. She is cute. Rose smiles.

"Well… There's still adoption."

Rose simply nods.

"Yeah… There's still adoption."


	527. 525 Mermaid

**525. Mermaid**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 214<p>

The Little Mermaid is a cute movie. It's moving, funny and has great songs. So, it's quiet enjoyable to watch – for the first, let's say, five times.

But the sixth time (in three days, nonetheless) is pure torture.

Babysitting Zoya for a week seemed like a great idea at first – and well, in the beginning, it was, because she is an adorable, sweet child. The only problem with her is her obsession for this movie. The one we had to watch six times in three days (and by 'we' I mean Zoya and myself, because she insisted I watched it with her; Dimitri, of course, had no such obligations).

On the evening of the third day I informed Dimitri that I am going to read Zoya the original Little Mermaid as the bedtime story next night– yes, I was that desperate. He didn't seem to like the idea (after all, the original Little Mermaid is a little, well… scary.)

So, the next day, before I could have executed my plan, he stepped in, like a knight in shining armor – well, duster –, with a new DVD in hand.

The Beauty and the Beast.

The Little Mermaid–problem scratched. But after four times watching it, I am starting to hate The Beauty and the Beast.

**A/N: My all-time Disney favorite is Mulan, by the way. I just had to make it clear :D**


	528. 526 Pirate

**526. Pirate**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 171<p>

At the age of eight Adrian wanted to be a pirate – mostly because pirates were cool. They had swords and ships and cannons, and they always fought battles and searched for lost treasures, and had wooden legs or hooks for hand and had a parrot sitting on their shoulder.

So yeah, pirates were pretty cool.

And he, being a lively child, became kind of obsessed with the idea of being a pirate. He had his own ship – well, his bed, slightly modified –, his very own treasure chest – a plastic chest meant for toys – and crew – his dog.

His pirate-mania lasted rather long – exactly until that family trip when his mother thought that a 'real pirate' should _at least _see the seven seas.

…Nobody had thought that Adrian would get sea-sick technically in the moment of setting foot on deck.

Being a pirate didn't seem so great after that. (And just as a closing note: even now, thirteen years later, he finds this little incident way too embarrassing to talk about.)


	529. 527 Lounge

**527. Lounge**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 182<p>

There's a completely empty, unused, bare storage room in the Guardian Headquarters at Court. And this is bugging me.

I mean that room could be used in so many ways! For example – okay, it's a lame example – it could be used to store stuff. Like the documents everybody is _so damn lazy to digitalize. _Or – here comes Rose-logic, as Dimitri likes to dub it – it could be converted into a – wait for it! – lounge.

Because we work a lot. And we are tired. Either physically or mentally – depending on what we are fighting with: Strigoi or mounts of paperwork –, or sometimes both simultaneously. And I am not talking about much: a sofa or two, a table with a few chairs, a coffee machine, a darts board (because every place like this needs a darts board; it's elementary) and maybe a pool table. (Because pool tables are cool; but they are not a necessity. I am just saying that it would be nice to have one.)

It's a great idea, right? I am sure you agree with me.

…Even if Hans doesn't.

**A/N: Fourth chapter of Conversations Over Tea is up! :)**


	530. 528 Love Affair

**528. Love Affair**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

Rhea knew that her husband was cheating on her – of course she knew. She wasn't blind.

She saw how eager Eric was when he left for Vegas. She saw how guilty he looked when he came home. She saw the numbers, the bills, the money spent there. Even the money spent on gifts for his mysterious mistress.

She could have easily caused a scandal. It wouldn't have taken much – fill out the divorce papers. Speak with the media. Lean back and have a martini.

Yet, she didn't do anything. Because they had kids who didn't deserve it. Because they were a prominent family what didn't need shame brought upon its name.

…Because she was an idiot who, despite of everything, still loved him.

**A/N: Zutara Secret Santa is happening again this year :) I am so in :P**


	531. 529 Lover

**529. Lover**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 127<p>

Emily hated herself for loving… this.

For being the mistress of a married man.

She had never wanted to do this. She had never wanted to be a… home wrecker. A husband-stealer. She had never even wanted to be a burlesque dancer clad in pearls and feathers. She wanted a normal, quiet life.

But Fate had dealt her other cards.

She had never regretted meeting Eric. He was great; wonderful. One of the best people she had ever known. She had never regretted having Jill, either. Sure, at first she hadn't wanted the baby – she had feared that giving birth would bring an early end to her carrier.

But looking back now – she didn't regret the affair.

She only regretted not meeting Eric before his wife did.


	532. 530 Secrecy

**530. Secrecy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 223<p>

"C'mon, Liss. Spit it out," Rose says – demands – impatiently, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Lissa gulps, trying to act innocent, while a single drop of sweat appears on her neck.

"I have no idea what are you talking about."

Rose snorts.

"Please – I know something is going on. Something you are not telling me. Something you, Dimitri, Christian, Mia, Adrian and who knows who else is on."

Lissa tries to stand a little straighter.

"Then why don't you ask Dimitri?"

"Because you're the weakest link in the chain," she states calmly. "You are the most likely to crack."

"Oh."

"Oh," Rose mocks.

Lissa takes a deep breath. She would be the queen of all Moroi, after all. She can deal with it.

"Well, I won't. Crack, I mean. If you want to find it out, try get it out from somebody else." Just to make her point, she crosses her arms as well.

Rose glares at her for a few moments, but then, without a word, turns around and walks out of the room, most likely going to the next weakest link in the chain.

Lissa lets out a sigh. It was close.

She reaches into her pocket, fishes out her cell and dials.

"Dimitri? It's Lissa. Rose is starting get suspicious; she doesn't know about the party yet, though."


	533. 531 50 Shades of Grey

**531. 50 Shades of Grey**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 160<p>

I lie in bed, book in hand, and I am trying to decided whether I should laugh out loud or get aroused.

Maybe the first one.

You see, I am not an avid reader and I rarely read anything that's not mandatory, but my dear Liss has her ways to make me read – usually the stuff she likes to read. Like Twilight and, most recently, 50 Shades of Grey.

Two hundred pages read her newest choice of reading material doesn't seem that shocking anymore: 50 Shades is a lot like Twilight minus the whole vampire-thing, plus a lot of sex scenes – often badly-written sex scenes.

I turn the page.

Although… although this position doesn't sound bad at all. Maybe…

I glance at the clock – it's still at least half an hour until Dimitri gets home. Hm… Well, I can read one more chapter until then.

And when he gets home… Well, I plan to put the author's fantasies on shame.

**A/N: Beware, it's gonna be long…  
>First of all, in regard of reviews: most recently I often get comments about that I should extend this or that drabble into a full length one-shot – and you're completely right. It's been ages since I wrote a real VA fanfic – Zutara has pretty much occupied my time and fantasy during the last year – and here and now I promise you that I'll make it up to you :) I have no idea yet what I'll write about, but I'll surely write something. Still in 2012, I promise :P<br>Secondly, about 50 Shades. I haven't read it, and I don't think I will. But let make something clear: the first word that comes to my mind when I hear the title is 'scandal'. Actually, it has nothing to do with the actual book, but with its Hungarian translation. Somehow the publishing company managed to get a scumbag of a translator, who not only has an ego the size of Mount Everest, but apparently, whose English is not even close to perfect. The translation is full of silly and maddening mistakes and he wouldn't even take responsibility for it. (For example when Christian listens to Kings of Leon it's Lion King in the Hungarian version. The title of the song is still the same, though, although I am sure no-one would be crazy enough to put a song called Sex on fire into a kids' film…). There's a site here in Hungary dedicated to mistranslation – they have had 5(!) articles on this book so far… So if I have a bitter approach to 50 Shades it's mostly because of it :D**


	534. 532 Morning Sickness

**532. Morning Sickness**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 261<p>

As a general rule, Liss and I complete each other. That's why, considering the rules of the Universe, she's a morning person and I am not. This might seem a little crazy at first, but believe me, this is how things work.

Maybe that's why it's so hard for me to comprehend that recently Lissa is not a morning person at all. I mean… she still wakes up relatively early, but instead of being nice and alert the moment her eyes pop open, she dashes right away to the bathroom to throw up.

Oh, the joys of being pregnant.

(Just to make things clear: I haven't seen it personally; Christian told me.)

And her morning sickness is putting a strain on my friend – she is often tired and sluggish whole day. Sometimes so much that even her secretary advises her to take the day off.

It doesn't really worry me. I mean, of course, I feel for her and try to help her in any way I can (like holding her hair back and caressing her back; I did that countless times when we were younger and she was throwing up because of different reasons), but I know that it's in the pregnancy package and that it'll pass.

No, the thing that worries me is that now, since Liss is not the morning person in our duo anymore, should it be me who is giddy and happy – without coffee, nonetheless – the moment she jumps out of bed? You know, the rules of the Universe and such…

I swallow.

Oh, the horrors.

**A/N: I know many of you would have wanted to see Rose as the one plagued my morning sickness, but I just couldn't do that. You might ask: why? Well, I can see two ways of her getting pregnant: with Dimitri, of course, but then it needs a reason, a method, a back story of how was it possible, to see how we come to this point. Without it, everything would be way too out of the blue. But considering the length of these drabbles, I couldn't fit everything into one. So no, no drabbles of Rose being pregnant because of this reason. Oh, and the other option: Rose having a baby with somebody else (Adrian, perhaps?), so with a guy with whom it's possible theoretically. But I guess you wouldn't want to see that, right? :P**


	535. 533 Betrayal

**533. Betrayal**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

At first, Natalie thought he was kidding.

It was a sick joke, but still… Her father couldn't have been serious.

But he was.

He wanted her to become a Strigoi.

Natalia wanted to laugh.

After it came the sweet talk: _it's the only way out. You love me, right? Do it for me, sweetheart. Don't worry about the consequences. I'll take care of them. Just do it for me._

And she did.

Not because she loved him. But because she wanted him to love her. It was her great betrayal.

But his was bigger, and she only realized this when the silver stake slipped into her heart.

Because right then, right there, she wasn't Victor Dashkov's daughter. Only his tool.

A tool which never had any hope of surviving this.

**A/N: Two things: first, if you write a review without logging in and you expect an answer for that review, please, at least give a name! I won't write any replies to 'Guests'. If you give a name I can refer to you :) Two: I love Taylor Swift and can't wait for Red to come out. I just had to say this. Sorry. (I have been listening to _I Knew You Were Trouble_ for about half an hour non-stop by now and it's still on :D)**


	536. 534 Forgiveness

**534. Forgiveness**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 161<p>

Forgiveness is a funny thing; everybody wants it, even the ones who aren't really responsible for their actions.

Dimitri is no exception.

What he did as a Strigoi haunted him. He needed closure. Forgiveness – yes, this funny little thing.

First of all, he tried to remember – remember names, dates, places, faces. It took him weeks, painful, agonizing weeks, but in the end he managed to track down everybody whom he'd killed.

Whom the Strigoi'd killed.

He knew that it would be the best to find their families and apologize, but it was impossible. The law wouldn't allow and it he couldn't do it, either. I wouldn't even let him.

So, in the end, he only bought flowers – white tulips – and tracked down their graves.

I accompanied him on this mournful journey. We visited countless cemeteries, where he put the tulips at the foot of tombstones and asked the dead for their forgiveness.

I can only hope that he's been granted it.

**A/N: White tulips mean forgiveness, I googled it :)**


	537. 535 Hilarious

**535. Hilarious**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

It took Hans five minutes after entering the headquarters to decide that it was going to be a strange day – and he didn't like that.

People were acting strange. Many avoided looking at him, turning away, their hands on their mouths. Belikov wouldn't look into his eyes when he asked the younger man about if he'd made any headway in his latest project. Hathaway literally sulked out of the room when he entered. And he swore he heard giggling from behind his back.

So, people were acting strange and he didn't know why. He didn't like that.

Of course, as soon as he stepped into his office and took in the hundreds of post-it notes that covered everything in the room, he understood.

**A/N: Someone has a death-wish :D Anyway, there's a story that simply has to be told: today, at the university, I am walking down the corridor in my everyday clothes – small heels, skinny jeans, little bit faded, but rather low-cut, floral print blouse – when I notice two guys standing not far away from me. One of them elbows the other, then, pointing at me, he says: "Look! Pretty girl!"**


	538. 536 Figures

**536. Figures**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 134<p>

When the crown was first placed on her head, Lissa thought that the worst thing in ruling would be dealing with royals – listening to their petty rows, whiny complaints, crazy ideas.

But of course, as it has turned out, it wasn't the case.

It doesn't mean that the royals are easy to get on with – oh no, Lissa still has to fight with them on daily basis. No, it only means that they are not the worst.

Lisaa groans as she pulls another sheet of paper full of numbers – expenses and incomes – in front of her. Her fingers ghost over the buttons of her calculator, trying to make sense of this mess of figures – and failing miserably. For the sixth time that night.

So, yeah; the worst are not the royals. It's their money.


	539. 537 Champagne

**537. Champagne**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 192<p>

Janine never drank – never, ever, not even a drop of alcohol. Drinking was unfitting to a guardian. Irresponsible. So, no alcohol. This was her personal rule.

…Of course every rule has to be broken.

Her sweet sin was champagne – but of course, not any kind of champagne; only the one that was given to her by him.

Abe was the first – and the last – one to led her astray. On their first date he ordered dry wine – he told her that it went with her food. She didn't like it at all, and ended up giving it to him. He chuckled at her.

On their second date, he ordered sweet champagne. She loved it. From then on, they always drank that whenever they dined together.

After the break-up and after Rose's birth, she didn't drink for a long time, even forgetting the taste of champagne. She didn't even miss it.

Then one day, after everything had calmed down, after Lissa had been crowned, one day she woke to find a bottle of champagne by her door.

The message was clear.

She just smiled to herself and took a glass off the shelf.

**A/N: About the story I've promised you guys some time back – could you give me some pointers? What would you like to read about?**


	540. 538 Amusement Parks

**538. Amusement Parks**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 142<p>

Adrian stared at her wide-eyed.

"You can't be serious," he breathed. Sydney merely shrugged.

"But I am. And you know what? I don't even miss it," she said, already turning away, back to her work, but then Adrian grabbed her arm and pulled her up from her seat.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" she exclaimed half-startled, half-angry.

"Saving your soul. Now go, put on some jeans and comfortable shoes – don't even try to tell me that you have none! – and meet me at the car in ten. No objections!" And with that, he shoved her towards her room.

"Saving my soul by what?" She turned back from the doorway.

"By taking you to the amusement park," he answered, shutting the door, closing her up in her room. He leaned against the wall. "Never been to an amusement park! This is beyond crazy…"

**A/N: Okay, so… D/R fluffyness, that's it? :)**


	541. 539 Mythology

**539. Mythology**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 133<p>

There's an old story the ancient Greeks used to tell, about a man who loved his wife so much that when she died, he went down to the Underworld to bring her back. He didn't succeed – he turned around when he shouldn't have and thus lost his love forever.

…I've had my trip to the Underworld – to Hell – as well. In my story, I was the ne who lost a partner and went down to get him back. Only, my Underworld was Russia, and my snake a Strigoi. But I almost turned around, too. It wouldn't have taken much to lose him, but I was stubborn enough and kept walking, my head high.

In the end I didn't turn around and got out of the Underworld intact, with my love by my side.

**A/N: For online cookies and hugs: whose story does Rose refer to? :P**


	542. 540 Skinny

**540. Skinny**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 182<p>

Standing in front of the full length mirror, Sydney grimaced at her reflection. It was stupid, she knew, but looking at herself she felt… big. Fatty. She grabbed her hips, feeling the soft pillows of fat there, then pinched the skin on her stomach.

Big, big, big (with unfairly small breasts, thank you very much).

She sighed, turning around, taking in her backside as well. Another, disappointed sigh.

"I really have to lose some weight…" she murmured to herself.

"Are you kidding me?" Came a voice from the door. Startled, Sydney jumped a little, immediately reaching for her robe, hastily trying to cover up her underwear-covered body.

"Adrian!" She exclaimed. She wanted to reprimand him, tell him off because he scared her, and anyway, how could he just walk in without knocking, but in the end she only said: "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry, I'll cough next time," he shrugged. "But back to the topic: are you kidding me? You, losing weight? Honestly, Sage, get it out of your head – you know, I have no intentions of dating a skeleton!"

**A/N: Doing some research for this drabble I rediscovered that Sydney is size 4 (keep in mind that I am not really familiar with this size chart) and that she thinks that she's fat. Well, I have a size 4 dress (UK size, 34 in EU sizes) which fits me like a glove (it was a little tight a couple of weeks ago when I bought it, but I've lost some weight, maybe about 4-5 pounds, since I started university). Should I consider myself fat as well then? Okay, true, I am always saying that I should lose some weight, but I never really act upon it. I just like eating whatever I carve too much. And anyway, I refuse to feel bad. I am 5"9', maybe about 128 pounds and have an hourglass figure of 35-26-35. So yeah, I refuse to feel bad. End of my rant.**


	543. 541 Seafood

**541. Seafood**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

"This food is staring at me."

An exasperated sigh.

"No, Rose, it does not. It's dead."

"I know, but it is still staring at me. It's just waiting until I swallow it and it can get its tentacles around my windpipe and crash it and…" Deep in her monologue, she even mimicked the crashing motion with her hands. Lissa pinched the bridge of her nose. She was starting to get too old for this.

"Crashing it from the inside?"

"…Well, then won't crash, but I am still sure that it wants to kill me."

"Again, Rose, it's not a revengeful Strigoi, only a small, dead octopus on your pizza."

"And your point is?"

Another sigh.

"My point is that maybe you shouldn't order fruits de mer pizza next time."

"Believe me, I won't," she said, then leaned forward and called loudly: "Hey, Mason, want my octopus?"

A/N: Fifth chapter of Conversations Over Tea is up! :)


	544. 542 Puppies

**542. Puppies**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 154<p>

"He's cute, isn't he?"

The dog snarled at me; I snarled back.

"Liss, he looks like a naked rat."

Lissa merely frowned.

"You might be right. I mean, he's not like a… well, a rat, but there are definitely–"

"…More dog-like dogs," I finished for her, steering her away from the Chihuahua kennel.

It was Lissa's newest craze: she wanted a dog. A lapdog, to be more precise. Because they were so damn adorable. (Not that much, if you ask me.) And, of course, she just had to pick me – the dhampir, please, see the irony – to help her choose her new pet.

"Then, maybe, what about yorkies?" I looked at her through slanted eyes. "Okay, then maybe not. Alright: what kind of dog would you choose, were you in my place?"

Talk about irony…

"I am not partial to any breed, but something big enough to eat the courtiers that annoy you."


	545. 543 Tarot

**543. Tarot**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 108<p>

The Two of Cups – upside down. _Heartache_.

The Queen of Swords – also upside down. _An enemy._

The Nine of Swords. _Being trapped._

The Six of Swords. _A journey._

The Page of Cups. _Unclear. Maybe an ally._

Not the best deal, but then not the worst, either. She's seen worse.

But this girl, who the cards are for, whose future lays spread between them on the table, apparently hasn't.

She's making snide remarks about the cards, about her reading, being sarcastic, making fun of this art. Not taking it seriously.

Her bad.

She'll learn, this way or another.

Because Rhonda knows what this girl doesn't – that cards never lie.


	546. 544 Birthday

**544. Birthday**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

It was like a secret operation.

(No, it _was_ a secret operation.)

Getting everything together, the decoration, the food, the music, the place. Inviting all the guests, making sure that they know that they should keep their mouths shut. Having Adrian not to bring exotic dancers. Talking with Dimitri and ask him to distract Rose when she had to be distracted – and remind him as well that it was a secret (it was maybe the riskiest point in the whole plan, since Dimitri was lousy at keeping secrets from Rose).

She was almost discovered at several points (okay, maybe she was even lousier than Dimitri when it came to keeping secrets from her best friend), but in the end it was complete success – Rose's surprise birthday party turned out to be amazing.

(Even though later she admitted to Lissa that she had a feeling that her friend was planning something like this.)


	547. 545 Engagement

**545. Engagement**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 104<p>

They are sitting in the park at Court, on the turf, in the shimmering light of dawn. Dimitri gazes at her tenderly, lovingly.

"What would you do," he starts in a soft voice, giving her a small peck on the lips, "if I proposed to you right here, right now?"

Rose can't help but chuckle.

"I'd laugh at you, and say no." _She's young, too young to consider it, to want to settle down for a life_. She leans in again and kisses him. "But… ask me again in a few years and I'll say yes."

He just smiles and leans into the kiss.


	548. 546 Marriage

**546. Marriage**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 177<p>

Sydney is a kind of an… old-fashioned girl. Sure, she wants to see the world and do her duty, but when it's done, or at least she's done her fair share of it, she wants to settle down. She wants to get married, she wants to have a house with picket fence (how middle-class that is…), she wants to have kids and then she wants to train the next Alchemist in her family after her (not so middle-class).

Only, she can' t see it happen with Adrian.

First of all, he would never be content with a life like that – and even if he was, even if he loved her enough to live a life like that for her, they could never have children.

…Because they would be dhampirs. And that's completely illegal, not only for her people, but for his as well. (But then again, what they are doing right now is completely illegal, too.)

And that's why she has to break things off with him, the sooner the better.

Even if it breaks her heart.


	549. 547 Crib

**547. Crib**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 141<p>

_ "God dammit! I'm gonna throw this whole crap…"_

Lissa only chuckled over her glass of lemonade.

"How long has it been going on?" I asked, taking a sip, while jerking my thumb towards Christian's general direction – towards the would-be nursery, where he was trying to put the crib together. And not succeeding. Not at all.

He cursed again.

"For an hour or two. Maybe three," Lissa shrugged rubbing her belly, obviously amused.

"Shouldn't we… I don't know, help him or something?" I offered. "We could call Dimitri over. He's pretty good with these kinds of things."

"Nah," she shook her head, emptying her glass. "No need. He'll get it work eventually. And until then…" she put her elbow on the counter and rested her head in her palm, leaning a little forward, "…let me enjoy the show."

_ "Son of a bitch!"_


	550. 548 Black Dress

**548. Black Dress**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 127<p>

When he first saw her in that dress – black, short, sexy, perfect –, Dimitri could only hope that Alberta didn't notice him stiffen for a moment and get his gaze fixed on her.

Because… damn.

On a simple day, she was breath-taking. But then, standing there, a couple of feet from him, in _that_ dress, on _that_ guy's side… She was beyond gorgeous. (In that moment he was very close to blow everything up, throw all the lies out of the window, and claim her as his then and there.)

Then the moment passed, the opportunity passed, _the night passed_ (even though not uneventfully), and in the end he still found himself grasping at fantasies about the girl in the black dress.

(But it didn't last forever.)


	551. 549 The Hotel Room

**549. The Hotel Room**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 132<p>

It was crazy and bordering childish, but they decided to spend the first anniversary of their reconciliation in the very room where they… well, where they reconciled that night before facing Tasha and the Court.

The guy at the reception must have thought they were crazy, smiling and giggling and touching, asking for one certain room and no else, then admitting that they lived nearby. He didn't see their point – why would they want to spend the night there? If they wanted a change of scenery, they could have travelled further; if they wanted a romantic evening, they could have found a classier hotel in town.

But they wanted this one.

The guy just shrugged and gave them the keys. He'd seen crazier peeps. Let them enjoy their night.

And they did.

**A/N: Back to an old topic: has anyone listened to Taylor Swift's new album yet? :) What's your favorite track?**


	552. 550 Toys

**550. Toys**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 193<p>

When he came across the black silk shawl, he didn't even pay any mind to it. When he found the rod with the feathers on it, he started wonder if any of Rose's friends had a cat. When he dug up a handcuff from the underwear drawer, he thought she'd just had it on herself for a job, then had forgotten to get it back to the headquarters.

But when he found the whip – a small one, mind you – he really started to feel uneasy.

So he decided to confront Rose about them. It was a quite a scene.

She just looked up at him from her seat at the table, as he dumped all the objects in front of her. He didn't even ask, only waited.

So did she.

"Would you mind to tell me what are… these?" he uttered at last.

"Toys," she answered, without missing a beat. When his demeanor didn't change a bit – he kept looking at her in that cute, confused way –, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do I need to spell it out, Dimitri? They are sex toys. For us."

…Well, that was embarrassing.

**A/N: I don't remember who gave me this prompt, but I remember a note next to it telling me that it could be about Paul. Well, I went with another association – I hope you don't mind :)**


	553. 551 Love

**551. Love**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 115<p>

She might have never experienced it, but Alberta still recognized love if she saw it.

And she did see it, whenever she looked at Dimitri and Rose.

Those two children – they drove her crazy with their forced two-step distance, resisting and denying. They thought they would be in such trouble if their secret ever leaked that they didn't even think about what would happen if they weren't thinking only in worst-case scenarios. If they let themselves hope only once. (If they only realized they had friends who were looking out for them.)

So yes, they drove her up the wall. But it still amused her to watch them and wait for their little bubble pop.


	554. 552 Red

**552. Red**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 153<p>

I am starting to get fed up with this song – because it is so melodic, so… poetic, so gooey and so…

I so can't get it out of my head.

(Even though usually I don't listen to music like this.)

Anyway, I blame Lissa. It's her style. I mean, both the music and inflicting things she likes upon me. The same thing happened with Twilight and Wicked. And now this.

She sent me the link for this song last night, saying that I should listen to it, because it's really good. I did listen, solely because it was she who asked me to do it. I listened to once, twice, thrice, then downloaded it to my phone.

And now, whenever I don't watch myself, I am humming it.

It's embarrassing, and I am starting to hate this song.

(But not as much as not to wait for the full album to come out.)

**A/N: Simply had to do it. Not even sorry. **


	555. 553 Jewelry

**553. Jewelry**

POV: Victor  
>Word Count: 151<p>

Teenage girls are so easy to read.

No matter how they seem to be on the surface – how unique, individual, special they want to look – they are exactly the same.

They want the same things: romance; money; glamour; shiny, pricey jewels.

It's so easy to play on their wants, to turn it to my advantage.

It's not difficult to find out what has caught Rose's eyes – a necklace, made of gold, shaped like a rose (how befitting – how clichéd), with a tiny stone. It's expensive, but nothing I can't afford – especially for this case.

Putting the charm on it is even easier. Getting it to her is a child's play. And then, the only thing I have to do is wait. Wait for the moment when the inevitable happens.

Because it will happen. Because every teenage girl wants the exact same things – and the first thing on that list is romance.


	556. 554 Alcohol

**554. Alcohol**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 138<p>

There were parties going on on campus. Mostly dhampir parties, but she'd seen her fair share of elite Moroi parties as well. These parties always included some kind of alcoholic beverage (thank God, only Alcohol, nothing illegal), as it was common knowledge.

Kirova was outraged. She wanted these parties to stop immediately.

Honestly? Alberta couldn't care less.

They were kids, hundreds of them, enclosed in a boarding school, with no other way to wind down. And to top of it, most of them, who were going to be guardians, could never go just out to party once they graduated.

And anyway, nothing bad happened yet, nothing other than a few hung over students. (And she trusted her students not to cause any problems.)

So, officially, Alberta hunted on-campus parties. But non-officially?

Well, non-officially she never saw a thing.


	557. 555 Drunk

**555. Drunk**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 203<p>

She's drunk, but in the adorable way, giggling and stumbling over her feet in her way too short red dress, her legs getting tangled up in the red cape if she's not careful, and he just simply can't be mad at her.

It's Halloween, and even the Guardian Headquarter is in complete gory glory with plastic skeletons and artificial spider webs and carved pumpkins and everybody – almost everybody – is in costumes, either sexy or hilarious ones, the music is loud, the drink is plenty.

He feels a little out of place – they don't celebrate this way in Russia –, and he is not even wearing a costume, only a cowboy hat Rose pushed into his head just before they left home. But this doesn't mean that he's not enjoying himself. He is. He is with her – even if she's a little drunk – and that's enough.

He takes the plastic cup from her hands – she's had enough – and pulls her towards the dance floor. Usually he's not one for dancing, but right he feels like it. Even if the music is creepy (on purpose) and his partner is a little drunk and keeps stepping on his feet.

Maybe he's a little bit drunk, too.

**A/N: I'd like to express my jealousy for everyone whose country is celebrating Halloween. I want to have Halloween, too :(**


	558. 556 Sex

**556. Sex**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 127<p>

Alberta glanced at Dimitri over the map, squinting her eyes.

There was definitely something different about him, although she couldn't exactly point out what it was. Somehow he looked… well, vibrant. More alive. Maybe even a less uptight, which was absurd, since they'd just survived a massive battle and was preparing for another one.

"There's something different about you…" she murmured, only half-loud, but he still heard her.

"What?" he asked startled, maybe even looking a little bit guilty.

Hm…

It could have been the adrenalin, she pondered. After all, he must have gotten quite a dosage the previous night… But no, it was something else, something else entirely.

And then it clicked.

"You are having sex."

There's no better confession than a way too eager denial.

**A/N: Idea shamelessly stolen from _Castle_, a series I've been watching way too much lately…**


	559. 557 Green

**557. Green**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

She stared at her reflection.

Wild, curly, brown hair. Pale skin. Cute face. Nice lips. Big eyes.

Big, green eyes.

It was crazy.

She closed her eyes – she didn't want to look at herself anymore, not now – and turned away from the mirror.

Big, pale green eyes. Dragomir eyes.

How hadn't she seen it before?

She had been around Lissa for months, sat beside her, looked into her eyes while speaking to her, and never once… She never once realized that they had the same eyes.

That they were sisters.

But then, how could she have?

She rubbed her eyes.

It wasn't… it wasn't a bad thing, she decided. Just… sudden. Unexpected. Scary.

But she had a sister. A sister.

Even if her sister didn't even want to acknowledge her other than politically.

**A/N: Just for the record (it's something I have wanted to state for a few days): I don't have swag. I have never had, I never will. And I am proud of it. **


	560. 558 Party

**558. Party**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 192<p>

She lets them think that they are so smart; that they can keep a secret from her.

They can't – in fact, both her boyfriend and her best friend are hopeless when it comes to keeping something from her. Of course, she can't tell what's off at first, but it's not difficult to put together the pieces.

Her birthday is nearing. Dimitri is taking her out – out of Court – more and more, and when they are back and she sees Lissa, she looks suspiciously guilty. And she sees party decoration brochures on her desk.

Of course they are organizing a 'surprise' party for her.

By her birthday, she knows exactly what to expect, but she still plays along.

She lets herself to be lured away from the place of her party for the afternoon. She acts surprised when she's finally taken there. (Nothing to be mistaken – she's happy that her friends has gone this far to surprise her and celebrate her birthday. It's just that they didn't really succeed with the surprise part.)

But she can't bear to tell Lissa that she knew it all along. So she says that she only _suspected_.


	561. 559 Meetings

**559. Meetings**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count:<p>

If there's something Lissa hates about being queen (well, there are several things she hates about being queen), it's the endless, boring, pointless meetings with royals.

There's a protocol for them – according to law, she has to hold audience twice a week and the royals have to request an appointment two weeks beforehand. She can't deny these requests, only if her timetable is full; otherwise, she has to see everybody – without exception. Even the ones who she knows would only bug her.

And then, on the day of the audience, she has to listen to them. And nod. And make appropriate noises. Sometimes she even has to negotiate. Sometimes argue. Sometimes she wants to go all Rose and smack them.

Sometimes she simply wants to rest.

And, well, there's one – simply one – way to escape, even if momentarily, from these torturing meeting: to pretend to be sick.

Well, let's just say that she has a _very weak stomach. _

**A/N: I have new Zutara one-shot up – my very first lemon, nonetheless – titled No Day But Today. **


	562. 560 Royals

**560. Royals**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 227<p>

It was fun – not exactly by the rules, but fun nonetheless. At least better than standing by the wall all night like a statue, without uttering a word, looking all grim and menacing. (And anyway, I had seen the outside security plan; there was no way anybody could have gotten even close to the ballroom without invitation. So technically, we were part of the decoration.)

For an hour or so, I was good. Then I started to get bored. Dimitri likewise. Somehow, we ended up standing barely a foot from each other (it was okay; our charges were standing less than a foot from each other, anyway).

And just for the record: he started it.

In a low voice, so only I could hear him, he started telling me stories about the royals present. Not real ones, mind you. But just things that came to his mind when he looked at one we didn't know. They were so different from us, with so different lifestyles. It was so easy to make fun of them.

We made up stories; about the woman in the peacock-blue dress, who cheated on her husband with the man who had that horrible tie; about the two men chatting in a far corner – they were stealing stolen antiquities.

It was fun – not exactly by the rules, but fun. It made the night bearable.


	563. 561 Hot

**561. Hot**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

Dimitri's aware of the fact that Rose's hot. And he also knows that he's not the only one – honestly, he's only one member in a huge group – who thinks that. And it's okay. He can live with that.

What he just simply can't bear is that most members of this aforementioned group only see that she's hot; they can't look under the surface. All they can do is to talk about how great her ass and breast are and what they would do to her if they had the chance. Now, that drives him up the wall.

Because she's so much more than a pretty face and a desirable body. Those men who want to get her can't see how strong, loyal, brave, clever, wonderful person she is. And they never will.

But he does.

**A/N: Some of my professors are rather cool (like that one who didn't even blink when I arrived over ten minutes late to his seminar…). Just today, I sent one an essay he required us to write via e-mail. I got the following reply: "TYVM :)" Yep. A smiley face. **


	564. 562 Cold

**562. Cold**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 144<p>

"It's cold."

"I thought Alchemists were above whining. That it's in the job description for you guys – no whining."

"I am not whining!" she snaps. "I am only stating the fact that it is, indeed, cold."

"Well, it's November. You can't really expect anything else," he shrugs. "And anyway, you voice went all high and… well, whiny, when you said that."

"Are you picking on me?"

"No, I am just stating the fact that when you say you were stating a fact, you were actually whining."

"I don't whine! I am Alchemist, and we are–"

"Above that?"

"Well, yes…"

"It's in the job description?"

"I wouldn't say that, but…" her voice trails off, and he sees her bite on her lower lip. She's so damn cute.

"Sage?"

"Yes?"

"Are you still cold?"

"…Yes."

"Do you want me to warm you up?"

"…Yes, please."

**A/N: It's been a while since I wrote about these two, hasn't it?**


	565. 563 Spring

**563. Spring**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 117<p>

She took a deep breath, standing at the open window, caressing a delicate bud on one of her beloved flowers with a single finger. She didn't even realized how she had missed spring.

Even as a Strigoi, she had been aware of the change of seasons; she just hadn't cared. It had been such an unimportant thing. Honestly, everything that wasn't blood or killing had been unimportant.

But now?

She couldn't see how she had been able to live without it. Without feeling the soft breeze on her skin. Without seeing the buds open in the sunlight. Without breathing in the scent of the freshly cut grass.

Without taking long walks with him under the waking trees.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday – I was dead on my feet when I got back from the uni, then one of my teacher – pardon me my French – fucked my day up. Let's just say I started my day with tranquilizers. **


	566. 564 Fall

**564. Fall**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count:<p>

This is the moment when he should be seeing his life – all the joys and sorrows – replayed for him.

After all, he is falling into the ice-cold water below him, a silver stake in his chest. He is surely going to die (for real this time).

…Or not.

The stake is not exactly in place, he can feel it – it's not deep enough. Once he's down it'll fall off easily. And the water can't hurt him.

He'll live. Sort of.

So he doesn't see the scenes of his life unfold behind his eyelids; only her face. Her tears. Her pain. Her love.

In some way, it's worse than dying.

(He'll get back to her somehow.)

**A/N: I guess I finally have the idea for the one-shot I promised you guys (although I am not telling it yet :P But the motto is I guess is "the less is more" :))**


	567. 565 March

**565. March**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 132<p>

Sometimes girl movie night ins are simply needed. It's a fact. And they have to include girly films. Another fact.

I am not against chick flicks (to be frank, they are a good refreshment after all those western movies I have been watching recently), but it doesn't mean that I am going as low as, let's say… _Mean Girls_. No. There are many other films – genres – that can be counted as girly films and yet, they are not at all that cheesy. And thank goodness, Lissa knows plenty of them.

…And that's how I end up sandwiched between Mia and Lissa on the couch on a Saturday night, Kleenex balled up in my hand, fighting my tears (I simply can not cry because of a movie).

"Beth can't die, she simply can't…"

**A/N: As always, I can't go with the simplest way and interpret March as the first spring month. No, I had to go with something else – hence Beth March and Little Women. (Anyway, I have nothing against Mean Girls. But I think Rose might have :)) **


	568. 566 December

**566. December**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 199<p>

December is sneaky – sneakier than any other months. Because other months simply happen. You blink and turn your calendar and that's it. But December's case is different.

The first winter month creeps slowly into your life, with its blinking lights and cheesy decorations. According to the date it's still November, but it already feels like December.

It should feel… I don't know. Annoying. Maddening, because December (and November) is all about the commercials and the urge to buy and buy and buy. And yet…

There's something magical about December – the real one. The one with the soft, powdery snow (especially in the mountains) and the hot cocoa and the mulled wine and snow ball fights and winter breaks… There is something enchanting in how the campus becomes white. In how the lights are put up. How the Academy slowly becomes quieter as most students go home for the break.

…It might be the anticipation. There's a holiday dangling above you, and you are waiting for it, but somehow the way there is better than the destination itself.

It's crazy, I know. But this is the way I feel.

I wonder how it would feel if I was in Russia…

**A/N: I apologize for this one. I got a little carried away, and now it's more like me than Rose. I hope you don't mind that much (I blame the coffee I drank around 5 pm. It's nearly 1 am right now, I am getting up at six, and I am still wired up…)**


	569. 567 Thanksgiving

**567. Thanksgiving**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 205<p>

When he first came to the States, he didn't really care about thanksgiving; it wasn't his holiday. He was indifferent. His fellow guardians didn't make a big deal out of it, either – after all, many of them were foreigners as well, neutral to this so-American holiday. So they simply let the day pass.

But then came Rose.

Despite being American only by chance – born to a Scottish mother and a Turkish father but in the States – she really got worked up because of this holiday, which made him a little vary. Sure, he wanted to spend the day with her, but at the same time he didn't want to go too deep into it; he only wanted to get a little taste.

She laughed at his concerns. Thanksgiving is just a lazy day, she told him. It's just a good excuse to rest and relax.

And that was exactly what they did.

They had no turkey or cranberry sauce – too much work, too many chances to set the kitchen on fire –, but some take out. They watched TV – the parade, the match, some movies afterwards. It was a nice day.

That was when he decided that, after all, he was quite fond of Thanksgiving.

**A/N: We have no Thanksgiving here, so my knowledge on the topic is rather sketchy; but I do know and remember, however, is what my American teacher told us about the holiday last year: that she likes it, since it's lazy, nobody coming over, you don't have to prepare for the guests, etc… Anyway, a little bragging (sorry…): I got my first university paper back today, and I got an A! (Well, not A, but a 5, since that's the best mark around here, and not one, but two – one for the formatting and one for the contents.)**


	570. 568 Ice Cube

**568. Ice Cube**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 132<p>

Sydney screamed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

"Adrian Ivashkov, what the…" and then she did something Adrian had never seen her do before: she cursed. Actually cursed.

What made him laugh even more (as if seeing her all flustered, jumping up and down while trying to lift the back of her blouse weren't enough to make him guffaw already). Even angry, she was so damn adorable.

"Would you please tell why did you have to drop an ice cube into my blouse?" she asked when she finally managed to get the said ice cube out of her clothing. Adrian only shrugged, still chuckling.

"No reason; it just seemed like fun." He stepped closer to her. "And it was totally worth it."

Even if she was so angry at him at the moment…

**A/N: Tomorrow I am going to the uni in my St. Vladimir's Academy T-shirt – it'll serve as a little experiment, see if anyone recognizes it :D**


	571. 569 Beach

**569. Beach**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

Strange, but she has never seen the sea before, although she has travelled a lot – born on the British Isles, lived in Europe, went to school in America, visited Japan alongside her charge.

But she has never seen the sea. Until now.

There is something magical about it – in the way the setting sun is reflected on the water of the Bosporus, its light covering the sandstone buildings in an orange hue. No, it isn't magical – it is magic itself.

She sighs.

It would be so easy to never go back. To stay here. To turn her back on the life she lived until now.

To stay with him.

Abe could arrange it; he could settle it with her charge. He would even pay for her. Just to know her to be his.

But…

But they can't do that. _She_ can't do that. She is way too much of a guardian.

She will go back, soon. But one day… one day she'll return to the beach.

**A/N: As of my little experiment: nada. Nothing. Nobody called me, saying "hey, you read VA? Me, too!" But it might have been because I had my scarf on for the majority of the day and it obscured the caption. Who knows?  
>Anyway, I finally have the (sorta) outline for the VA story I have been promising you. So you don't have to wait much longer :) Once I get down to writing, it'll be only a few days :)<strong>


	572. 570 Favors

**570. Favors**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 117<p>

The Alchemists give orders; you are supposed to obey – you must obey – whatever they told you. It's not pleasant, but you get used to it. You become accustomed to it. And their orders are clear, unambiguous. Usually easy to follow.

Of course, it doesn't mean that you have to like them.

Friends are different; they ask for favors. They look at you with pleading eyes and add some cheesy, funny line. What they ask for is not clear, though. Sometimes even risqué. Illegal.

But you still do them. Not because you have to, but because they are your friends. Because you love them. Because you are happy to have them.

(Even if they get you into trouble.)

**A/N: Okay, so… I am trying my hand in this quiz show in the national TV, and I had the first round of "casting" today, but I got a little lost. So I asked a lady on the street where I could find the film studio. In reply, she asked if I was an actress. I am going to take it as a compliment :D**


	573. 571 School

**571. School**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 200<p>

It's seven p.m. and they have been here since eight in the morning, with technically no break (well, unless you count that hurried, fifteen minute long lunch break) and it looks like they will be here for an hour or two more at least. And it wouldn't even be that bad if the job would be exciting – but it's not. They are preparing for some big royal event off-Court she doesn't know much about – she'll have to ask Lissa –, trying to figure out how to make the security the most air tight. It mostly involves whiteboards, tracking people down, going over old records and paperwork. Tons of paperwork.

Long story short: it's boring.

And as rookies – the lowest standing members of the totem pole, regardless of their relationship to the most powerful Moroi – they get the most boring stuff.

Rose huffs as she drops another stack of papers on the desk in front of Eddie. He looks up, his eyes tired and weary.

"What?" he asks, his voice a little bit edgy, answering her unsaid words.

"It's just…" she leans against the desk and runs her finger through her hair. "I never thought I would miss school, you know?"


	574. 572 Training

**572. Training**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

Rose doesn't see it as an assignment – rather as karmic justice.

She spent more than ten years (okay, it's still two years less than it should have been) being trained. She was pushed and pushed, chased to the brink of her limit, then pushed some more.

And now – she is going to do the training.

Oh yes, karmic justice indeed.

She just can't wait until her classes start; Dimitri, on the other hand, is less than thrilled. Well, kind of amused, but at the same time, less than thrilled.

She can't help herself – she just has to ask. He just sighs with that oh-so-handsome half-smile on his face.

"I am happy for you, I really am – just please, promise me that you won't fall for some goofy, talented, young, cute novice, okay?"

She just laughs.


	575. 573 Practice

**573. Practice**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 228<p>

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Frown. You are giving everything away."

"No, I am not!"

"Oh, yes, you do." Adrian takes a sip from his wine. "Whenever you have a bad hand, you frown; if a good one, your nose twitches. You are easier to read than an open book. If I wanted, I could win your pants off of you."

He enjoys this situation way too much. She? Not that much.

She throws her cards on the table. Three of hearts and six of spades. Really not a very good hand.

"I really don't know what have gotten to me. I am not a gambler." She looks at him from under her lashes. "Why would I want to learn how to play poker?"

"Because it's fun?" he suggests.

"Maybe for you."

His face actually softens. He puts his glass down and leans closer, caressing her cheek – the one with the lily tattoo – with his thumb.

"Come on, you just need to practice your poker face a little bit. You'll get the hang of it no time, trust me." Then he is back again, cards in hand, shuffling already. "But until then why don't I teach you something else? If we have already talked about getting you out of your pants… What do you say about a little strip poker? And you know what? I'll let you win."

**A/N: Okay, so… there might be a little bit of Castle influence, too, I am not sure (I have been watching that show way too much recently. And the funny thing is that we are covering a chapter about crime and law enforcement in language practice class, and because of Castle, my head is full of police jargon…) And, a completely different topic: it'll be decided tomorrow whether I will make an appearance in the national TV or not. It's kind of exciting – and scary. **


	576. 574 Baby Rose

**574. Baby Rose**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 239<p>

Okay, so… when Abe said that he wanted to meet Dimitri – and by 'meet" I mean as my boyfriend – I was scared. But not exactly of this.

No. Most definitely not of this.

First of all, they get along – not just in a so-so way, but pretty well. Abe's alleged criminal records and reputation in Russia put aside, they get each other rather well. They have things to talk about (which is kind of scary). Actually, they got along so well that Abe doesn't even try that terrifying routine he used to make sure Adrian wouldn't hurt me (but this might be because he's kind of afraid of Dimitri as well. He is a competent – more than competent – opponent, after all).

Then what is my problem?, you might ask.

The pictures.

The pictures Abe has in his wallet. Pictures I didn't even know existed. Pictures of me. Baby pictures. Bare-butted baby pictures (have you ever noticed that every single person on the planet has at least one photo made of them as a baby, stark naked, lying on their stomach, butt shining?). And he is showing them Dimitri.

And Dimitri has the nerve to chuckle at them. Actually chuckle.

I ask: who needs enemies when one can have such a lovely boyfriend and father?

(Note myself: the next time we visit Russia, ask Olena for Dimitri's baby pictures. We'll see them how funny will he find the situation then!)

**A/N: Sometimes weeks can go by without me having anything to say to you guys, and then… bam! Now I have plenty. Sorry in advance.  
>So… I am going to in the national TV, it's sure now. Which is kind of scary. I mean, millions of people will see me! And then a thing I love about uni: I just got the green light to include Amon, antagonist of Legend of Korra, into my upcoming literature essay – it's gonna be a hell of an essay! As of my recent Castle-addiction: this drabble wasn't inspired by last night's episode. At least not consciously. And still about Castle a little bit, and about my crazy brain: has anybody ever thought about what a great crossover could be done with using these two stories? I mean VA and Castle. After all, both include dead bodies and a pair in romantic relationship where, until a certain point, the parties won't succumb to their feelings. Any meeting between Rose, Dimitri, Beckett and Castle would be hilarious.<br>…But no, I am not writing it. I am not doing crossovers. Period.  
>Sorry for the long AN. **


	577. 575 Bones

**575. Bones**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 124<p>

I shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but I barely move and I am already moaning in pain, my hand flying unconsciously to my side.

That's what two broken ribs do to you.

Eddie looks at me, somewhat sympathizing, his left hand in cast. Well, at least we match. Sort of.

"We are guardians. We are tough," I say with a haughty nod, not exactly sure if I am talking to myself or to Eddie.

"Yeah?"

"We don't whine about some little scrapes."

"Not at all."

"We bear the pain with dignity."

"Because we are tough."

"Exactly."

A moment of silence. My side throbs like hell.

"What do you say about we ask Lissa if she could heal us?"

"Right behind you."

**A/N: I really wanted to get started on the VA one-shot, but… times flies by. And it's not an excuse. It's a sad fact. What's even sadder is that I spent some of this said time browsing Castle merchandise. Did you know that now there is Castle-labeled coffee? It's crazy (but I'd like to taste it nonetheless…). Anyway, there might not be an update tomorrow, since I am going to the freshmen ball at my university – I'll still try to squeeze some drabble-writing into my afternoon, though. **


	578. 576 Exhibition

**576. Exhibition**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 168<p>

She doesn't think they could be any more different – her feet are solidly on the ground, he is always up in the clouds; she is all business, he is all party; she is self-conscious, he is so sure of himself; she is an Alchemist, he is a vampire.

And yet – they bond. Over art, nonetheless.

It was his idea – she though it to be extravagant, but still agreed. Standing in front of the museum, she lectured him about the architecture – he even seemed interested. Then he insisted on taking a photo with one of the living statues.

"It's art, too," he said and she gave in.

Inside, he made jokes about the too small male parts of the sculptures and spent eternities in front of still lives, admiring the brushwork. She teased him about the male parts and couldn't take her eyes off of the painted ceiling. They spent minutes standing in front of _The Birth of Venus_, discussing beauty without expiration dates.

They left hand in hand.

**A/N: Virtual hugs and cookies to those who can tell which museum they visited :)**


	579. 577 God

**577. God**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

"So… you believe in God?" Rose asks, almost shy, as they are sitting at the dining table in the Belikovs' home.

Sydney fingers the cross hanging from her neck.

"Yes. I do. Completely." She's not hostile or unfriendly. Not anymore.

"And what about… Heaven and Hell?"

"Those, too."

"But you think that I, and everybody like me, by default, go to Hell, right?"

"Well, I…"

"You don't have to lie to me."

"Okay."

"…But Sydney? If somebody, even a dhampir, was a really, really, obscenely good person – he can get into Heaven, right?"

She gulps. She could lie – but what would be the point in that?

"Yes, I guess so. I mean… if he was… if he did so much good… then he could. Definitely. Even a dhampir."

"…Thank you."


	580. 578 Taste

**578. Taste**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

She had never been kissed before.

But she wondered how that would feel – how would that taste (she was a teenaged girl, Alchemist or not, after all).

She reckoned that everybody would taste different, depending on… well, she didn't know. Maybe depending on what they eat and drink?

She unconsciously touched her lips. Then she must have tasted like coffee.

Adrian, on the other hand… (She couldn't believe she was thinking about how Adrian Ivashkov's kisses would taste like…) He would surely taste like ashes and alcohol – not a very attractive combination. And yet…

She wanted to find out if her assumption was right.

(When they do kiss, she realizes that she was wrong; he is so much sweeter than cigarettes and liquor.)


	581. 579 Hug

**579. Hug**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 119<p>

When Rose first hugs her she freezes.

_It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong_… her mind keeps screaming. This is a dhampir's arms around her, a dhampir's head at the nook of her neck, a dhampir's hair in her nose. She shouldn't let her to do that, she shouldn't, because it's wrong and she's been taught this her whole life…

But…

But it feels nice. They have never been truly affectionate in her family, especially with her father around. She has never really had friends, friends to envelop in a simple, comforting hug…

But now here is rose – _this dhampir_ – and she is offering this friendship to her, seeking comfort in her and she…

…She finds herself hugging her back.

**A/N: Asianepicfail: be patient :P There'll some of what you want soon :P**


	582. 580 Tonight

**580. Tonight**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

He drums his fingers against the top of the table. He glances at the clock. He clicks his pen, again and again and again.

Dimitri has never had problems with working long hours before (before Rose). His shift started when it started, went as it went, ended when it ended. He had nowhere to rush; practically, his job was his life.

He glances at the clock again. T-minus seventeen minutes and counting.

He can't wait for his shift to end.

And it is pathetic.

Simply pathetic.

Because it's not that he is tired or frustrated or has something very important to get done.

No, it's just a little vixen standing on tiptoes, leaning into him, her breasts pressed against his chest, whispering into his ear seductively just as he was leaving for work: "Tonight."

This shift just can't end soon enough.

(T-minus sixteen minutes and counting.)

**A/N: Not exactly R/D smuttiness, but getting there :P**


	583. 581 Blur

**581. Blur**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 186<p>

They talk him into seeing a psychologist – he doesn't really see the point, he doesn't believe that it will work; it's just the waste of time, waste of money.

But he agrees.

The woman is supposed to help him come to terms with everything he did as a Strigoi. Help him forgive himself.

After the first session he convinces himself it isn't working. Rose is great – she urges him to go along; she tells him that she, too, went to therapy and it helped. She is smiling and he can tell that she is lying.

But he still asks for another appointment.

The woman says that he should make a list of all the wrongs he committed. He tells he can't – everything is a big blur from that period of his life; he can't separate it into different events. It's much like a nightmare after waking up: all the tight chest and terrible images, but no story. Only a blur.

She says she can help, they can try hypnosis. It would do him good if they did.

He says no. he doesn't want to relive _that_.

**A/N: I was thinking, and it's scary… It's been nearly 10 years since I wrote my first story. 8,5 since it was published. 7,5 since I wrote my first fanfic – it was first published on 25th March 2005. Over 5 since I started writing regularly, mostly my own stories. And nearly four since I have been writing in English. It's scary. **


	584. 582 Rest

**582. Rest**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 203<p>

All three of them lead straining, stressful lives, even if so different ones. All three of them are adamant about getting their ideas through, getting their jobs done. All thee of them need rest – even if it means completely different things to all three of them.

For Rose, it's getting her hands on the cue or get wild, dancing next to the shaking speakers. It's sparing with an old friend, just for the fun. It's going to the beach or climbing a hill. She can never be completely still.

For Lissa, it's putting everything out of her mind. It's putting in a stupid chic-flick or picking up some cheesy romance novel – anything she doesn't have to think about – and get cozy on her couch with a glass of wine or a bar of chocolate.

For Sydney, it's escaping to a museum or a library or historical building or a car show. Anywhere she can be alone while hiding amongst the people. Somewhere she can be herself, where she can do what she really wants to, without being watched and judged.

But something is true for all three of them: they need their better halves to be able to completely let go, to relax.

**A/N: The shooting (recording?) of the quiz show I'll be featured in is tomorrow. Wish me luck! :)**


	585. 583 Grudge

**583. Grudge**

POV: third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

Mia was not a perfect person, no matter what picture she tired to present to her peers.

First of all, she was from a working family, which was a great setback itself. And she had a bad temper – she got angry pretty fast. And then there was that little thing with holding grudges – she was really, well, good at that. She could hold a grudge very long.

Let's just take Rose for example – Mia had always found her irritating (but then again, the feeling was mutual). And then that little bitch broke her nose (true, she provoked it) – and so the grudge started. And it lasted long. Pretty long. Got a little bit more intense everyday. Gosh, she hated Rose.

…But then her mother died. Murdered. And she changed. So many things changed.

…And holding a grudge suddenly seemed like a silly thing to do.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday – I was dead on my feet after the shooting of the show :S**


	586. 584 Pleasure

**584. Pleasure**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 153<p>

Rose had had her fair share of fooling around before Dimitri – she had been with numerous boys (not that way, but still), having hot and heavy make out sessions, getting to second base, sometimes almost third base. And it was great (sinful, but great).

But… damn. These early little expeditions to the still then uncharted land of sexuality had nothing on the real thing. Or, more likely, on Dimitri. Or the two things put together. She wasn't sure.

In bed (or really, on any surface that was sufficient enough to have sex) he was an artist. A professional. A god. (Okay, she might have been a little biased, but still, he was pretty amazing.)

The things he could do with his fingers…

So, yes, fooling around had been great. But being with him was greater.

So great that she never wanted to part with him (not that he had inclinations to leave her).


	587. 585 Secret Wish

**585. Secret Wish**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

Janine was content with her life. She was exactly where she was meant to be: by the side of her charge, doing what she was best at. In her, life she did everything exactly the way she was supposed to do.

And yet, there were nights…

There were nights when she lay awake, wondering about how her life would be if…

If only she had taken Abe seriously.

If only she had said yes to him.

If only she had dared to go against the stream.

If only she had been brave enough to leave her predestined path.

If only she had become the mother Rose needed.

If only she had done the one thing she wanted to most instead of what she was supposed to.

If only… If only…

But she hadn't.

Even though she wished she had.

**A/N: Again, subtle reference to Castle. Sorry, I couldn't help it. **


	588. 586 Guilty

**586. Guilty**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 173<p>

Christian had been only gone for ten minutes, fifteen, tops; he only had made a quick run to the shops for some sprinkles. No way anything could have happened while he was away.

And yet…

Lissa and Rose were just leaving the apartment as he opened the door. Rose didn't make one witty comment. She didn't even try. (_Suspicious_.) Lissa kissed him, which wasn't strange in itself, but still… She was too sweet. Way too sweet. And not only in demeanor. She _tasted_ sweet.

And they were in a hurry; they wouldn't tell him where they were going, only that they had to leave. Now. Half a minute, and they were gone.

And they seemed, well… almost guilty.

Christian shrugged it off; Lissa was a sweet person; Rose must have been preoccupied with something (he even made a mental note to ask Dimitri about it). But then he stepped into the kitchen.

Crumbs and used muffin papers everywhere. His work gone. Devoured. _Eaten_.

…So the girls did have something to be guilty about.

**A/N: An FBI agent is gonna give a lecture at my uni on Wednesday – I am sooo gonna be there :D**


	589. 587 Markers

**587. Markers**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 188<p>

No-one has prepared her for this: for the endless, tedious, dry and oh-so-often meaningless legal documents. The documents she not only has to read, but know the contents of them by heart.

_ Oh, the joys of being a queen._

She starts off almost enthusiastic; half an hour later she is merely bored; an hour later the words start to blur. It is an impossible task. Worse than memorizing Chemistry equations.

The laws are horrible. Many of them are completely outdated. Even more don't even make sense. Most of them need corrections. Only a handful of them are good the way they are.

She sighs. It can't go on like this.

She pulls out a package of markers from her desk (she is glad she is alone; she is sure the royals wouldn't like seeing her staining these documents, even if they are only copies).

Green means it has to go; blue has to be updated; yellow doesn't make sense; orange needs corrections; pink is good to stay.

When she's done marking, the workload is still scary (maybe even more so than before). But at least it is cheerful.


	590. 588 Crayons

**588. Crayons**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 138<p>

It'd seemed like a good idea. (Well, it did. Up until the point she was left alone with the little girl.)

Because really, she'd slain countless Strigoi, faced death – more than once –, done incredible things – there was no way she couldn't look after her three-year-old, kinda-sorta-niece while Dimitri showed Karolina and Paul (her sorta-kinda-sister-in-law and nephew. After all, the only thing missing were some papers, as Dimitri liked to point out) around Court, especially the training facilities.

So… yeah. Things started out nice. Zoya was a nice kid. Cooperative. Easy to work with. But then she left her alone for two full minutes (she'd just gone to the kitchen for some water) and…

Well, now she had about thirty minutes to either get the crayon pictures off the walls or come up with a sensible, non-compromising explanation.

**A/N: Today, I listened to a bunch of Christmas songs (and realized that there are some I have in like three different versions) and a couple Gangnam Style parodies (I don't even like Gangnam Style), then started watching Firefly (even though I am not really into sci-fi) – the world must be ending. (Or it's just my after end-term test winding down…) **


	591. 589 Stairwell

**589. Stairwell**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

It is nothing. She can do it. She can absolutely do it.

_Take a deep breath. Lift your foot, one after the other. It's only three stories. _She used to run miles every morning. Three stories – not even sixty steps – is nothing. At least supposed to be nothing.

Her chest starts to burn after twenty steps, the bullet hole aching and the surgical cut stretching. Her breath becomes labored. But she can do it. She must do it.

It's part of the healing process; yesterday, she walked down the corridor to the balcony, then back to her room, all by herself. Today, she is gonna defeat the stairs. Step by step.

Forty steps in, she can hardly breath. Her scars hurt like hell. She has hardly any energy left. _She hates it._

She has to sit down. Angry tears leak form her eyes.

She wants her old self back.

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. I was half dead with a headache yesterday night, so I decided to turn in early (before 10 pm – I hasn't done such thing in years). I meant to wake up in the middle of the night, to get some work done, but I simply slept through my alarm. I slept eight hours solid. I never do that on weekdays. I think it's the first sign of the Apocalypse.  
>Anyway, I wanted to put Dimitri into this drabble as well, but then it run too long, and… so, yeah :D <strong>


	592. 590 Remote

**590. Remote**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

Dimitri has no idea what possesses him when he buys that little hut.

(No, it's a lie – he knows it very well. It's the mountains, a gas station, snow angels, Rose and talk about a peaceful life.)

It doesn't cost that much – he can pay for it from his savings –, but it's in a horrible state: the roof broken, the walls painted with cracks, some of the floorboards broken, doors won't lock, the plumbing is a disaster. But it is at a great place, the view is amazing and it is remote enough to be peaceful.

…And it's not like he wants to move in (he wants them to move in) now; not even in the near future. It's just a… possibility. For when he (they) retires. (If he lives long enough.) Which is years – decades – from now.

And it's okay. He has a lot to do, anyway.


	593. 591 Banana

**591. Banana**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 106<p>

Sydney eyes the contents of the paper bag cynically.

A banana and two oranges.

Okay…

She sighs, closes the bag and pushes it away, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She can think of two possible explanations: one, Adrian is being thoughtful. He's noticed that she technically functions on coffee, a fact that has made him concerned, and so he packed her breakfast this morning. Just to make sure that she eats. And he packed fruits, because they are healthy and tasty (and don't require preparation). Two, it's a technically unveiled sexual innuendo.

She let's out an involuntary chuckle.

…Yeah, knowing him, it's the second explanation.


	594. 592 Apple

**592. Apple**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

Ordinary, everyday things like eating an apple shouldn't be erotic (eating a lollypop or ice-cream, maybe, but not an apple). And yet she… and he…

Dimitri swallows.

She is driving him crazy (the good kind of crazy, when his blood boils and the thing he wants to do most is throwing her on that table she is leaning against and…).

And she is just eating an apple. A damn apple. A damn apple, red in color – red as sin. Red as her lips. And she is laughing, throwing her head back.

A low moan escapes his lips.

Damn her. Damn him. Damn that damned apple.

He grips the edge of his desk.

She is just eating an apple. It shouldn't be erotic. It shouldn't turn him on (it's pathetic. He is pathetic. It's been only hours…)

And she is eating that apple and she is laughing and she is breathtaking and he wants her, he wants her so bad…

He wants to be that apple…

**A/N: First thing that came to my mind when I first read today's word? Castle's safeword. I think I am a little bit obsessed. And then I started writing it, and halfway through I realized that I kinda referred to two Taylor Swift songs here. Kinda. I am crazy. **


	595. 593 Phone

**593. Phone**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

He loved her – regardless of time, place, situation. He loved how professional, how determined, how smart, how powerful she was. Hell, he even loved how hard it was to break her shell. But maybe, just maybe, he loved her most in the morning, before her first coffee, when she was kinda disoriented, kinda disorganized, kinda…

Well, less Sydney.

He chuckled to himself, leaning against the doorframe, while watching her as she tossed the room, looking for her phone, her blouse still untucked, her hair still unbrushed. Swearing softly under her breath. (Sydney Sage. Swearing.) She was endearing. Simply endearing.

He just couldn't help himself.

"Adrian!" she snapped, looking up at him, her hands on her waist. "Would it hurt if instead of laughing at me, you would help me find my phone?"

He smirked.

"No, it wouldn't. Have you checked your pockets?"

Her eyes widened a little – both in surprise and in anger – and he knew.

No, she hadn't.

**A/N: Finished Firefly and watched Serenity, too. It was great. Serenity almost made me cry. The reavers creeped me out. I loved Inara's outfits. I loved how Nathan Fillion played his part. So, it was great :D**


	596. 594 Music

**594. Music**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 197<p>

Rose dances while doing the dishes.

Earphones in her ears, the cable running down from her face to her jeans pocket, where the little device hides. The music must be loud to her, but Dimitri only hears fragments of it, a low, rhythmic noise. She is listening to an upbeat song, he can tell from the way she twists and turns her waist, from the way her hips sway.

She is cute. She is sexy. She is mesmerizing.

She doesn't even realize that he is watching her – she is dead to the world, the only things that matter to her in this moment are the music in her ears and the dirty dishes in front of her (she hates doing the dishes).

He is content with only standing in the doorway and watching her, but a part of him wants to be discovered. A part of him wants her to look at him and smile and reach for him and asking him without words to join. (He's not much of a dancer; never been, never will be, but he'll dance for her, with her.)

But she doesn't look up; it's okay. They still have time to dance.


	597. 595 Concert

**595. Concert**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 232<p>

"How do I look?"

"I have never though that I'd say it, but you look pretty hot, mum."

"Are you sure? I mean… I…" Janine swallows and tries to ignore the smirk on her daughter's face.

"You act like it was your first date. It's kind of cute."

She won't tell her that it almost is. Or at least that it is the first in nearly twenty years (so she has every right to be nervous and fidgety, even if the man she's having a date with is the father of her daughter).

Rose reaches for her mother's neck and adjusts her necklace. It's so intimate, so family-like that Janine has to blink a few times to keep her emotions at bay.

"It's just a concert, okay? A big, fancy concert with a conductor and a few dozens of musicians, but it's still a concert. There's no pressure, okay?"

Janine simply nods. Rose leans close to her and breathes a kiss on her cheek.

"And just to make things clear," she says when she pulls back, a glint of naughtiness in her eyes, "have a great time; I don't have to know the details; and be _safe_."

This is one of the moments when she can't decide whether she should be scowling or laughing, and whether she should be mad at or proud of her daughter.

(Maybe the second in both cases.)

**A/N: Sometimes I am obscenely lucky. I have entered three contests on Facebook so far – and I won all three cases (books two times, and a chance to be on TV once). And then there is the end-term test I wrote last week. There was a task about what I had no idea, so I'd thought the best grade I could get was 4 (B in the American system). We got the tests back today; it turned out we didn't even cover that thing the task was about, so it got crossed out. No points lost – none. I got a perfect score. Maybe the only 5 (A) in the whole group. So I guess it was a great day :D**


	598. 596 Party

**596. Party**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 173<p>

Party – such a light, easily understandable word (okay, it's a homonymy. Or a polysemy? Still, the meaning she thinks of first when hearing the word has nothing to do with politics), yet, the meaning of it has changed so much as Lissa grew.

When she was little, party meant pretty dresses and bows in her hair and a bowtie in her brother's neck and grownup visitors in sparkly jewelry and champagne and old women pinching her cheeks and Mum telling her not to get her dress dirty and behave.

In her teenage years, it meant short dresses and tops that showed way too much midriff or cleavage (or both) and loud music and cheap booze and cute boys and foolish decisions and things she regretted the next morning.

After her coronation party meant obligatory pleasantries and malice hidden behind fake smiles and slow music from the piano and the violins and just for the show food and aching feet in heels.

One word, so many meanings. She doesn't like either of them particularly.

**A/N: Sorry for the homonymy/polysemy thing – I am writing a linguistics test tomorrow (er… Today. It's 1:30 am…)**


	599. 597 Languages

**597. Languages**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 177<p>

I've had my share of learning languages – er… trying to learn languages. I guess it's a better term. I didn't get too far with any of them, at least not in school.

Spanish bored me. French was impossible to pronounce (or just impossible to mix the spelling with the pronunciation?). And Russian… well, Russian is a funny thing.

When I was kind of forced to study it back in ninth and tenth grade, I hated it. It sounded freaky, the letters were horrible (never learned them properly), the grammar impossible. A little bit more than a year spent studying it, and I didn't know anything more than introducing myself. And I didn't care.

Then came Dimitri and his family and Russian and… well, I found myself wanting to learn it. Really learn it. To able to speak with my hopefully-in-laws in the native language.

It's amazing how far determination can get you.

(Just for the record: Dimitri still makes fun of my pronunciation sometimes and still refuses to teach me swearwords – but I am working on it.)  
><strong>AN: Fun fact: Russian was an obligatory subject in every Hungarian elementra and high school from after WW II up until 1989 yet, hardly anybody could speak. It was forced, so people tried to block themselves from it. My mother studied Russian for eight years. Maybe she can say two full sentences today. **


	600. 598 Halloween

**598. Halloween**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 192<p>

When she steps into the room, Sydney can't decide for a moment whether she should laugh or cringe (because it's just so crazy, so inappropriate, so wrong, so… _Adrian_.)

He is standing in front of the full length mirror, in complete Halloween custom-glory, donning a long, black cape lined with red silk on the underside. It also has a tall collar, the material curving around his head. His hair is slicked back, looking darker than it really is, due to the overuse of hair gel. He is even paler than usually, extra shadows painted under his eyes and cheekbones with some kind face paint. Even his lips seem redder than usual (_please God, don't let him wear lipstick…_). When he turns towards her and smiles she can see the pointed plastic fangs in his mouth.

Sydney groans (it's still better than giggling).

"What are you supposed to be?" she asks.

"A vampire," he opens his arms in a 'isn't it obvious' gesture.

"Hate to break it to you, but you _are_ a vampire. Even sans custom."

He simply shrugs.

"Well, now I am vampire-er."

(God, as infuriating he is – she loves him.)

**A/N: I've heard about the Connecticut shooting :( Poor little babies… May they rest in peace!**


	601. 599 Pumpkin

**599. Pumpkin**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 203<p>

"This is getting ridiculous. Utterly. Ridiculous." Mia says, exasperated, and Rose can't help but chuckle into her drink.

"Yeah – because it's so bad that he has petnames for you."

"He's calling me pumpkin." Her tone is clear: _you just gotta understand what it means._

"And?"

"And my father calls me pumpkin."

"And?"

"And what does _your_ father call you?"

"Rose. And kid, sometimes. And some Turkish name I am too lazy to look up in the dictionary."

Mia huffs. Rose just can't see the seriousness of this situation – the situation being the new boyfriend of hers using the same nickname for her her father uses.

"Okay, then, imagine this," she tries the new approach, "You're in bed with Dimitri, in the middle of the deed, and he uses the same endearment your father does. Wouldn't it be a big turn off?"

Rose just shakes her head.

"Nah, I just can't imagine it happening. First of all, they don't even share their native language. And believe me," she adds with a little secretive, naughty smile, "my father wouldn't even think of calling me any of the names Dimitri uses for me in bed."

"Why, what does he call you?"

"…That's none of your concerns."

**A/N: I am lazy. I am procrastinating. Please, blame me. Really. Blame me. Get me into** **working properly. **


	602. 600 Christmas

**600. Christmas**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 128<p>

He's Muslim. He doesn't celebrate Christmas. But…

But he has boxes full of ornaments. He buys a tree every single year (even though he never gets around trimming it). He buys and wraps presents. Hell, he even gets mistletoe. Every. Single. Year.

Just in case.

Just in case Janine changes her mind. Just in case she decides to visit him. Just in case she brings Rose with her. Just in case she decides that he can be a part of his daughter's life. Just in case she lets their daughter spend the holidays (the holidays he doesn't even celebrate, but he _would_ for his daughter).

Just in case.

Just in case his life takes a turn.

So, yeah. He's Muslim and he buys a Christmas tree every year.

**A/N: The one-shot (well, three-shot, if everything goes well) is under construction. I have a full page written. And yes, it's Christmas themed. Get me out of the hell of procrastination with your encouragement, and I'll will have it done… well, maybe not by tomorrow, but in two days? **


	603. 601 Orange

**601. Orange**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 117<p>

Adrian says she is thinking too much; that she is way too much rational. She doesn't feel, only thinks.

He wants to change that.

_ (It's crazy, it's crazy, she doesn't want that, any of that, she is afraid, she is already feeling too much and isn't thinking enough…)_

But somehow he convinces her. He covers her eyes with a silk tie _("Feel its softness against your lashes.") _and orders her to keep her hands behind her back. She complies.

He feeds her. He tells her just to feel – feel the juices, smell the aromas, relish in the taste. Strawberry, banana, apple, chocolate, blueberry, orange…

She can't help but mewl, whimper, moan.

…And then he is kissing her.

**A/N: upside of the day: I learnt/read through all the definitions I need for my Lit exam (130+ definitions, baby!) Downside (lazy side): I spent over an hour browsing a Castle-themed Tumblr page (Upside of downside: found some hilarious Nathan Fillion quotes :P) And now off to write one-shot…**


	604. 602 Brown

**602. Brown**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

"…Rose?"

"Hm?"

"Is it supposed to be… brown?"

"Yeah, sure." A skeptical look from Lissa. "I guess so. Okay, maybe no. But even then it smells–"

"Terrible."

"Hey, if all you gonna do is criticize my cooking…"

"Excuse me: your what?"

"Okay: my attempts at cooking – then you can–"

"Help you?"

"I was going to say leave me alone, but considering our friendship, helping me maybe would be more acceptable. Even though I am pretty sure you are not that much better at cooking than me."

"Hey, at least I have some natural talent for it."

Unlike me, you wanna say?"

"Exactly."

An eye roll.

"You are such a good friend, Liss." Rose takes the spatula and tastes the… whatever she is trying to make. She grimaces. "You know what? Forget helping. It can't be saved. Do you want to order in?"

"Chinese?"


	605. 603 Blonde

**603. Blonde**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 120<p>

Rose looks to her left – blonde hair, long, sleek and silver-like, attached to a pale face with green eyes. Fiddling with her necklace.

Ninety degree turn – blonde hair, kinda darkish, shoulder length, tidy. Brown eyes, small frown, golden lily tattoo. Twirling the straw in her drinking.

Another ninety degrees – blonde hair, curly, but not as much as it used to be, doll face, sun kissed white skin. Blue eyes. Drumming her fingers on the table.

Rose can't help the small smile from on her lips as she takes in all her friends sitting around her. She takes a sip from her cocktail.

"I guess," all eyes – green, brown, blue – turn to her, "you wouldn't like to hear a blonde joke."


	606. 604 Weapon

**604. Weapon**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 144<p>

Dimitri is well aware what's under Rose's jacket (maybe that's the problem): silver stake tucked into the inner pocket (custom made, engraved with her initials – he's had it made, back then for her graduation, but he didn't get around giving it to her until much later) and a Glock 17 with a full clip, nestled in its holster under her left armpit (just in case).

Both of them are deadly weapons – good to kill or at least knock off Strigoi – but he knows that they aren't the most dangerous weapons she has.

There is her body for starters, of course. Her endlessly long legs, her trim waist, firm, wonderful breasts, long, slim neck. Then there is her smile. Her beautiful, killer smile. The smile that can stop his heart. Her wit. Her intelligence. Her caring nature.

He knows exactly what her deadliest weapons are.

**A/N: The quiz show I was in aired today. Their Facebook page posted a picture of me (they do of every contestant) and they called me 'pretty'. First thing, they called me 'pretty'. It's pathetic, I know, but it feels so nice :)**


	607. 605 Cupcakes

**605. Cupcakes**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 168<p>

Whenever she needs some peace of mind, something that can make her relax, Lissa bakes. My best friend seems to find solace in mixing ingredients, pre-heating ovens and decorating the done product. Oh, before I forget: her favorite thing to make is cupcakes.

Goodness bless her.

Because she is a goddess when it comes to cupcakes. It's just… perfection (and I am not biased. At least not in this case). Tasting Lissa's cupcakes is like a mini-orgasm in your mouth. A culinary Nirvana.

And of course, Lissa being Lissa, she also cares about how her cupcakes look, not only how they taste – she can spend hours decorating the them, using frosting in all colors of the rainbow, marzipan, sprinkles… everything you can imagine. So, in the end, her cupcakes are more like pieces of art than… than, well, cupcakes.

…Which is a shame. Because I so don't have patience for art.

Especially when cupcakes are involved (they are to be eaten, not stared at, if you ask me.)


	608. 606 Couch

**606. Couch**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

This is so much harder than it should be.

Rose forces on a small smile, listening to her mother going on and on and she can't even tell what the hell they are talking about.

Because Janine is sitting on the couch. _The couch._ The very couch Dimitri took her only hours ago. And last night. And last Saturday. And practically at least once a week ever since they have moved here.

And her mother is sitting on it. It is embarrassing and… and, well, oddly arousing. (Speaking of arousing stuff: where is Dimitri when she needs him? …Right now in more than one way.)

Rose can't help but search for tell-tale stains on the couch _(please, let there be none, let there be none…)_

And her mother just goes on, and she is just nodding and giving out small, agreeing noises, and Janine's hand wanders to the middle seat, where last night, _oh last night_…

She swallows, clenching her tights together.

She is not gonna survive this afternoon.


	609. 607 Bed

**607. Bed**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 156<p>

It's a miserable sight: the wooden frame cracked in the middle, the mattress sagging, even ripped in one place (now, I have no idea how _that_ happened!), one leg broken, lying on the floor. The sheets are a big tangle, the comforter is no-where to be seen, the pillows are in various (and I mean _various_) points of the room.

Just to make things clear – the night started out well. Hell, it started out great. And I really enjoyed… wreaking this… whole… havoc.

Creating this mess.

_ Hell, it was fantastic._

But now? It's miserable. The state our bedroom is, simply put, miserable.

"Dimitri?" I ask, sitting on the floor, my back against the wall.

"Yeah?"

"We broke the bed."

"We did."

"Where are we going to sleep now?"

A shrug. Short silence.

"It still was great."

I am rewarded with a small smile for this.

"It was. But Rose? Let's choose a sturdier bed next time."


	610. 608 Guitar

**608. Guitar**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 158<p>

Mason played the guitar.

Not many people knew about it; he hadn't been playing that long and he'd never gotten that good, so he mostly kept it to himself – only a handful of people had ever heard him play. Eddie, since he was his roommate, so he couldn't have kept it from him, a few of his closer friends and… well, me.

It was only once, just before we went on the skiing trip. I was hanging out in their room, and then he just picked up his guitar, saying, with a goofy smile, that he wanted to serenade me.

It was kind of cute, even if his music was horrible. He kept missing the notes, fumbling with the chords, getting lost in the melody. He tried to sing, too – his voice was terrible. Worse than terrible.

I laughed. He laughed.

It was great.

After his death I could never look at a guitar in the same way.

**A/N: Kind of depressed, I know, and I am sorry, but Merry Christmas to you all! :)**


	611. 609 Blue

**609. Blue**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 105<p>

Lissa looked at her reflection, considering her new, pale blue sweater.

The color really suited her well; it complemented her fair skin, her silvery-light hair. It even brought out her eyes somehow.

She looked pretty.

If Rose saw her now… She would have smiled at her and told her that she looked amazing. That she was ready to turn some heads.

She smiled to herself and wiped a tear from her eye.

Her best friend was who-knows-where, facing who-knows-what kinds of dangers. All alone. For her true love. To free him.

And she was not with her.

She has never been more ashamed of herself.

**A/N: I really meant to finish your one-shot today, I really did. But then I got distracted. By Once Upon A Time – I was half a season behind. Now it's only two episodes… I really should be ashamed of myself…**


	612. 610 Hunting Trip

**610. Hunting Trip**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 212<p>

I am not nervous. Or scared. Or anything. Not at all.

_ But he should shave been back half an hour ago._

Of course it doesn't mean anything. When they departed on Friday, Abe said (_with his shotgun hanging from his shoulder_) that they'd be back by around Sunday midday.

Which passed exactly twenty-six minutes ago. (Okay, it's still _around_ midday.)

But they still should be back by now. Because my father is out in the wilderness (or more likely in the car by now, but still) with my boyfriend, a couple of guns and who knows how much munitions.

The same father who terrified Adrian Ivashkov.

_ Adrian Ivashkov._

I am on my second cup of coffee – or my third? –, which, I know, is not a good thing (it just makes me more hyper), but I have to do something with myself. Because they should have been back twenty-eight minutes ago.

Twenty-nine.

It's already thirty-six minutes when the door finally opens (I am only two minutes from alerting every Guardian at Court about an abducted – and maybe wounded – comrade).

He's in one piece – unshaven, messy-haired, bandage on his left hand, but smiling.

And I can't help but letting out a relieved sigh and jumping into his neck.

I know, I am hopeless.

**A/N: can anyone tell me whether 'munitions' is considered a countable or an uncountable noun? :D Oh, and I caught up with Once Upon a Time today – and also realized that I have a thing for shoulder holsters. They are hot. Period. **


	613. 611 Ice Lolly

**611. Ice Lolly**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 213<p>

"Ice lolly?"

"What?"

"Do you want an ice lolly?"

Sydney put her book down on her lap and looked up at Adrian from her seat on the couch. The vampire was standing over her, with one ice-cold treat – slightly dripping already due to the heat – in each hand.

Treats, full of carbon hydrate and calories.

Even if they looked oh-so-appetizing.

"No, thanks," she answered curtly, turning back to her book.

"Aw, c'mon, Sage!" She felt the mattress bounce as Adrian hopped down next to her. "I know you want it. I know you are hot – pun intended. Just take it!" He said, waving one of the lollies in front of her face (getting droplets on her blouse and her book).

She pushed his hand away.

"No, thanks."

"But I bet you wanna cool down."

She huffed.

"Sure – but there are other ways to do that."

"You wanna go for a swim? Because if you do, I am in."

"That's not what I had in mind…"

"Then what?"

"Do you think it's your business?"

"Well, sure…"

And this went on for a while. Quite a while, and somehow, in the end, one of the lollies ended up under blouse,

Though they had no idea how that happened.

Or at least they wouldn't admit it.

**A/N: Answers for some unregistered reviewers:  
>MADD: I haven't yet – and it's not about that I don't want to read it. It's about that I can't buy it anywhere where I live :P<br>MFPNWT: The oneshot I promised – the one I am working on – is WIP. About three pages done :). But it's not about the hunting trip. Sorry.**


	614. 612 Heat

**612. Heat**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 197<p>

Rose sits – okay, half-lies – on the couch, in sweats and a too big T-shirt (stolen from Dimitri), hair in a messy bun, lower lip bitten in.

And she is reading.

And what's more: she seems to be engrossed in whatever she is reading.

Which is strange. (It might even be a sign for the Apocalypse.)

Dimitri stands in the doorway, a mug of coffee in each hand, one eyebrow raised. It's new – even to him.

"What are you reading?" he asks, but gets no answer. Rose doesn't even look up. Huh – it seems pretty serious.

He walks over to her, sets the mugs on the coffee table, sits down by her legs and squeezes her left foot to get her attention. She jumps a little (so much for Guardian awareness).

"What?"

"What are you reading?" he repeats.

"Oh… Just this," she says, holding up the book for him to see. Black and red color theme. A silhouette of a naked woman holding a gun. The title: _Heat Wave_.

He raises an eyebrow. Again.

"Is it some kind of…" _porn?_ "…pulp?"

She shrugs.

"Well… kind of. But it's good. Now, if you don't mind…"

And she continues reading.

**A/N: Simply. Couldn't. Resist. (Please, forgive me.) anyway, Rose was just reading the proverbial 'page 105' (which is more like page 150 IRL). And note the coffee. Always note the coffee. **


	615. 613 Rough

**613. Rough**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 102<p>

Rose's hands are rough – cold-bitten, wind-battered, calloused from hand-to-hand combat and handling weapons.

And somehow it saddens Lissa.

She considers her own hands – soft, pale, unblemished. She can't even remember the last time she… did the dishes. Or gardened. She only… shakes hands and writes and signs (she does have a little callous over the last joint on her right middle finger.)

She somehow wishes that the skin on her hands were at least dry… chipped. Just to be a little bit closer to her – to Rose.

Just to share her pain – her burden – a little.

Just to be a better friend.

**A/N: The promised one-shot is underway, I swear, only I am always kept away from writing…**


	616. 614 Binoculars

**614. Binoculars**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 166<p>

This looks more exciting in movies.

A lot more exciting.

Dimitri and I have been lying on the cold, hard ground ever since sunset – and that's been over three hours –, our eyes (without fruition) glued to our binoculars, our binoculars glued to the entrance of the cave about quarter a mile from us in which Strigoi allegedly live.

Well, it seems like they don't. Otherwise they would have showed by now.

And I am cold. And tired. And my hipbones hurt. And I am bored.

And I am not complaining.

But I still let out a pained sigh.

"Getting enough?"

I lower my binoculars.

"It's just… there's a slim chance that anything will happen tonight." Short pause. "And I am bored."

"Let's wait another hour and if nothing happens until then, we'll call it a night, okay?"

"Deal."

Silence.

"But until then…" I say, just to maybe, just maybe, start a conversation.

"Until then… I guess you don't want to talk about marriage right now?"


	617. 615 Valentine's Day

**615. Valentine's Day**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 129<p>

Sydney's question catches her off guard.

"What can I expect?"

Rose blinks a few times, even leans back a little, taken aback and not at all sure what the other girl is talking about.

"What?"

Sydney, shyly, casts her eyes down.

"I mean for Valentine's Day. You've dated Adrian – you know his ways. I just want to be prepared…"

Rose can't help but laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, usually he is prepared. Most times. Not all. So better if you…"

"Okay, okay, stop! I sense double meaning here."

"You sure do," Rose smiles. "Anyway, I did date him, but we didn't last long enough to see a Valentine's Day."

"But still… you still have some advice?" Her tone is hopeful.

"Sure do. Expect big. Dress nice. Wear something lacy under."

**A/N: Happy New Year, everybody! :) …And now I am off to finish your one-shot (I still have four hours until midnight…) (No Naked Heat for me until then…)**


	618. 616 Lovenote

**616. Lovenote**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 199<p>

At first, it seemed like a good idea.

Her and Dimitri's desks at the Guardian Headquarters were far from each other (them being on different steps on the ladder of office hierarchy and all), so communicating during shift when there was nothing to do, really, but sitting behind the desk (wasn't Guardian work was supposed to be field work?) and do, well, practically nothing.

But then there were these cute little inter-office notes – little pieces of paper passed around, so the information was flowing nicely.

And at first, it seemed like a good idea to use these inter-offices notes as little messages.

At first, she only drawn a little heart (along with the actual message) on the one she sent Dimitri. She got a smiley back. Next time, she attached a little personal message. She got an answer. Then, they got a little adventurous – their little notes (talking about their plans for the evening; even some innuendos) became longer than the official messages.

And then the last of their lovenotes – one sent by Rose, a little bit on the naughty side, accompanied by a lipstick mark – accidentally ended up on Hans' desk.

…Not so much of a good idea.


	619. 617 Horoscope

**617. Horoscope**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 203<p>

"Sage, when you finished, can I have the paper?"

Sydney peeked over the top of the pages which she held in front of her face, pulling her eyebrows together skeptically.

"Why would you need it? You don't peg me as somebody who's the least bit interested in what goes on in the human world." She raised the paper again and turned the page. "…And even if you were, I guess you'd sooner watch the news."

Adrian chuckled.

"Very funny. One point for you." He leaned closer. "I just wanna read my horoscope."

That got her attention. She lowered the paper to the table and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Please, tell me you're joking. Don't tell you believe in this… this… insanity?"

He snatched the paper from her.

"It's right more times than you'd think! Let's say what it says about you today…" He turned to the right page. "You are a Aquarius, right?"

_ "Adrian…"_

"Here it is! _'You are going to spend your day with a handsome, charming young man.'_ Huh. Sounds good to me," he said, closing the paper.

Sydney allowed herself a small smile.

"You just made that up."

"Maybe. But this doesn't mean that it can't be true."

**A/N: EDIT: I stand corrected - Sydney is an Aquarius. Text corrected :)  
>As for my opinion on the topic: horoscopes in the newspapersmagazines silly, annoying, meaningless and completely irrelevant. Personal horoscopes, on the other hand, are a completely different thing. Once, the mum of one of my friends – whom I have never met – did a partial horoscope based on my exact date and place of birth (by exact date I mean a 15 minute window). And even though we had never met, and I doubt she knew anything about me, she could tell a lot of true things about me based on those facts. So, there is truth in horoscopes, only not in the mass produced ones :)**


	620. 618 Babysitting

**618. Babysitting**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 200<p>

"Ooookay, Lissa," drawls out Mia, looking at the toddler playing by the couch with a raised eyebrow. "Just let me get it straight: you want me to babysit…" she sharply turns her head towards Lissa, her voice hiking a little. "What's her name again?"

Lissa can't help but rhythmically tap her heels against the floorboards. She really, really should be going.

"It's Zoya. She's Dimitri's niece."

"Okay, so you want me to babysit Zoya, who is supposed to be babysat by you–"

"I told you, it's emergency, I didn't see it coming, and I _really_ should be in the council room in…" she steals a glance at her watch. "…Ten minutes ago."

"Wait, I didn't finish! So, you want me to watch Zoya, the little gal you have been asked to look after by Rose, the very person who was supposed to babysit her in the first place?"

"Exactly! But it's not Rose's fault either, really…"

Mia raises her hand to stop her.

"Zip it! I don't care." She takes a deep breath. "What's in it for me?"

"A pleasant afternoon with a great kid?" A skeptical look. "…And a concert ticket?"

A moment of consideration…

"I am in."

**A/N: I am really starting to think that alcohol and/or lack of sleep boosts my creative powers.  
>…Which is not a good thing. Not at all. <strong>


	621. 619 Fortune Cookie

**619. Fortune Cookie**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 183<p>

"What does yours say, Sage?"

"What does mine what say?" she asks, chopsticks hovering in the air a foot from her face, noodles hanging from the end, her eyes fixed on the report in front of her. She is way more focused on that report than on her food. Or on Adrian, for that matter. Which hurts him. A little.

"Your fortune cookie," he answers, even pushing the said treat onto her papers.

She raises her eyes, frowning.

"Really? First horoscopes, now this?"

"Don't tell me that horoscope didn't end up to be true!"

"Well, yes, but-"

"No buts! Open it. I am curious."

She sighs, but puts her chopsticks back into the container and picks up the cookie.

"Al right, but if you tempered with it…"

"I did not. Scout's honor!" He watches with eager eyes as she tears off the foil packaging, breaks the cooking into half, pulls out the folded message, opens and reads it. "So? What does it say?"

She hums, tossing the piece of paper aside.

"'Don't mess with things you can't explain.' Just my kind of philosophy."

**A/N: Please, if any of you have written to me and I've failed to reply (even though you've been waiting for it), don't feel shy about bugging/harassing me about it. Don't feel shy about writing to me, period. I love talking/corresponding. Also, I couldn't resist – there's some Castle in here. Kinda modified, but still here.**


	622. 620 Favor

**620. Favor**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

Everybody in the vampire circles she moves in (or at least hides in the shadows, on the periphery) knows that if you need a favor, you go to Abe Mazur.

Only, they warn her, he doesn't do favors.

She doesn't understand first – then a local Alchemist sits her down and explains it to her.

With Mazur, with the _Zmey,_ it's all about tit for tat. You do something for me, I'll something for you. No favors. Deals.

He is dangerous, nothing you should temper with, the local Alchemist tells her. Nothing good ever comes out of his deals. The best if you avoid him at all costs.

But… he is also the man who can do – and will do – anything and everything. Who has the power, the resources.

Who will deal with her.

Who will helps her take revenge on that bastard for what he did to her sister.

And he only asks for a small favor in return…

**A/N: As I was writing this, I realized how similar Abe and Rumpeltiltskin/Mr Gold are: both are powerful men, dangerous men, who like striking deals, trading favors. Both pretty good with law, occasionally acting as a lawyer. Neither of them would feel grief about killing. Usually have a hidden agenda. They both have soft spots for certain women. And they even have a similar body type. **


	623. 621 Librarian

**621. Librarian**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 222<p>

She tries be less… stalker-like, so to say, tries not to steal so many glance towards their direction, but she mostly gets romance from soap operas and bodice rippers and occasionally from the sounds of her neighbor having sex, so yes, she is hungry for some real love for a chance.

The couple captured her interest the moment they stepped into her little, deserted library. They are not locals – mostly likely tourist just passing by, killing their time with something until their car is being fixed.

The girl is small – or maybe she just seems small in comparison to the man –, slender, colored in the hues of brown. Pretty and so young. The man is slightly older, handsome, his frame is made of sinewy muscles.

They are not overly handsy, unlike some of the young in the town, who only think of the library as a make out location; no, they hardly touch, but lay down on the floor, an open book – something from the travelling section, but she can't see clearly – in front of them. They are talking, not in a hushed way, but not loud enough to bother anybody, and they laugh and they seems to be making plans.

The librarian leans over her desk, head in her hands and sighs.

She could definitely endure more couples like them.

**A/N: I wrote half of it – then my laptop got overheated and turned off. Lost all of it…**


	624. 622 Bread

**622. Bread**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 169<p>

Going on an impromptu, three days long trip chasing Strigoi across the state, to chin in arms (okay, slight exaggeration, but still), might sound exciting and adrenaline-pumping and maybe even _fun_, but believe me: it's not. It sucks.

Because you spend half of these three days in the backseat of the nondescript sedan on stakeout, catnapping against the shoulder of your partner (okay, maybe this part wasn't half bad). Because even though you win – the Strigoi are dead and all of you live – your back still aches, because one of those bastards knocked you against the wall. Because when you get back at Court there's a mountain of paperwork – forms and reports and memos – waiting for you, even though the only thing you want to do is fall into bed the way you are, dirty and smelly and weary. _Because you haven't eaten normal food and three days._

And because even after everything, the only thing you have in your pantry is stale bread.

_ The universe must hate me._

**A/N: Okay, here comes some self-related mumbling (something I just have to get off my chest). Feel free to skip.  
>Today, one of my seminar teachers called me. He didn't write an e-mail, but took his time to look up my number in the uni directory (I guess). He invited me to a "Talent Camp" – sent the program over told me to chose any I'd like to take part in (extra lectures, sport programs, you name it). This camp is held in this "Collegium" – the place I had my classes with him. It's… kind of like Greek House like society, only high-end. Extra classes. Have to be pretty smart to get in. and he wrote that he'd be glad if I applied for membership for the next year.<br>…And I am having an identity crisis over this. Because… in elementary school and in high school it was evident that I was smart. I knew it. I knew that in some aspects, I was above my peers. But here? It's said to be the best uni of the country. And I feel average. Hell, I want to feel average. I want to struggle, I want to afraid of my exams, I want to get Cs and Ds, I want to not to stand out that much. I don't know why. I just… maybe I just feel that if I stood out here, it would mean too much responsibility. That people would expect too much of me. They are already expecting much of me. Half of the friends I've made since I came here think I am a genius. They even call me so. But I don't feel like a genius. I am lazy. I am shallow. And silly and awkward and shy and childish and completely unfit for life. I might be insanely lucky, always being at the right place at the right time, but that's it. I am not extraordinary. I am not that person who'll… get a Ph.D. Win a Nobel. I am… just me.  
>Sorry for the rant. <strong>


	625. 623 Skates

**623. Skate**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 190<p>

December is knocking on their door. The temperature has fallen, the skies are threatening with snowfall. The outdoor ice rink at Court just opened.

She can just see it from Abe's window – it's the very same rink where… was it already twenty years ago? It was.

_ How fast time flies…_

Twenty years ago, in one of her week moments – she was in his arms, pliant, sated – she sighed and told him that she had always wanted to learn how to skate.

The next day, during the daylight hours, when nobody was out, he somehow had the rink opened and pulled her to the ice. She was clumsy, wobbling, but he held her waist securely, not letting her fall. He laughed and she laughed and in the end she couldn't feel her toes anymore and it was magical…

She sighs.

"You know, Janine" she hears his voice from behind her, soft, so much like warm honey, when he is talking to her, "all you have to do is ask. I'd more than happy to get that rink for ourselves for the day. Do you still have your skates?"

She only smiles.

**A/N: Thank you for all your kind words and advice yesterday! :) I'd have never dream of getting so much feedback – so much support. You are great – every one of you!**


	626. 624 Fun

**624. Fun**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 223<p>

"So…Sage, what do you like doing for fun?"

"What?" she asks, not even looking up from what she's reading.

"I asked what do you like doing for fun? Because, you know, I've known you for a while, but still, I can't tell what you do in your spare time." He pauses foo a little while, waiting for Sydney's response, but she stubbornly remains engrossed in her papers. "And you know what? It bugs me," he continues, determined to crack her. "Because it's the most basic thing you want to know about a friend. Let's just see me: I am easy to figure out. I like drinking, partying, chasing women – having fun. That's obvious. And I like art, but you already knew that," he ads with a flair of hand. "But what about you, oh, almighty Alchemist? What makes your blood buzz? Dog shows? Puzzles? Cheesy chick-flicks? Bodice rippers?" A heartbeat of pause, just for the dramatics. "Porn?"

This – or maybe the whole rant itself – gets her attention. She looks at him with an almost naughty smirk on her face (_oh, he likes it very much_) and raising the pen she is holding, she lightly drags it along his shirtfront.

"Maybe…" she starts, licking her lip as she speaks. "Maybe my hobby is to drive you up to the wall."

_ "…Evil. I like it."_

**A/N: I was halfway done with it when I realized that this one, again, is influenced by Castle – this time, a particular episode: **_**The Mistress Always Spanks Twice **_**(which I re-watched today). In the episode Beckett played Castle similarly to this – teasing, playing on his sexual fantasies, but always letting know in her way that it's just a joke. (Anyway, that episode is so 3-0 to Beckett! :D) **


	627. 625 Tight

**625. Tight**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 215<p>

The dress is beautiful – the most breathtaking piece of fabric art Lissa has ever seen. Deep burgundy silk, strapless, long-skirted, the bodice inlaid with rubies and crystals.

The party is amazing – the music is delightful, the lights are just simply perfect and even a simple look at food makes your mouth water.

The people are pleasant – they come to her, kiss her hand, make small talk. They flirt, in that funny, teasing way, they laugh, they make her laugh.

When she is alone for a moment, she sighs.

The people are horrible – every single one of them wants something from her. A job for a nephew at Court. A law not to be passed. A piece of gossip about her life. The smiles are ice-cold, the laughs are fake, the hand kisses are pretentious.

The party is lame – everybody is so stiff, the music is boring, nothing you can really dance to, the lights are making her eyes hurt and the food is only for the show.

The dress is suffocating – the bodice is too tight and she can't breathe and she can't wait until it's over and she can get it off, get it off as fast as she can, before she is suffocated in this sea of rubies, fake smiles and ulterior motives.

**A/N: Congrats for all the winners of People's Choice Awards, especially Taylor Swift, Nathan Fillion and the crew of Castle! (Anyways, I am gonna steal Nathan's tie from yesterday. It's just too pretty for a man.)**


	628. 626 Leggings

**626. Leggings**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 186<p>

"Now tell me," says Christian, putting down his beer, "is anything sexier than corsets? Nothing beats corsets."

"As you say – _nothing_ beats corsets," Adrian chips in, even cockier now after his second scotch.

Their little party of four laughs. They are free, they are having fun, they are a little drunk, a little lewd. They are men. It's strange – Dimitri is not used to it –, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

"Nothing or corsets?" ponders Eddie, even scratching his chin. "Tricky question. Very tricky question. I mean, sometimes more is less…"

"Not less is more?"

"I mean sometimes a little clothing adds… to the fun."

They laugh again. If only their significant others knew about it…

Dimitri takes a sip from his beer.

"You know what? I am topping you, and say leggings. Have you ever watched a woman walk or jog or run in front of you in leggings? Priceless." He says, his voice almost wishful.

Christian chuckles into his bottle.

"So that's why you let Rose beat you in your morning runs."

"I am not even ashamed."

Guffaw. It's so nice to have friends.


	629. 627 Vanilla

**627. Vanilla**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 229<p>

"Can't sleep?"

Lissa jumped a little hearing her best friend's voice. But then again, what didn't make her jump these days?

"No," she hung her head sheepishly. "Hard to, night and all. So I thought…" she took a step towards the fridge – her original destination –, opened the door and pulled out a box of vanilla ice-cream. "…That some comfort food wouldn't hurt. You game?"

"Sure," Rose shrugged, stepping to the pantry and pulling out two spoons. The two girls settled down by the kitchen island and opened the box. None of the spoke for a long time.

"You couldn't sleep, either?" Lissa asked after a while. Rose didn't answer right away.

"I never… seem able to when you can't. At least… not since the accident."

Silence settle between them again, the only sound in the kitchen being the soft hum of electricity and the clicking of their spoons against the ice-cream box.

"Do you… do you think they are looking for us?"

Rose licked her spoon.

"Sure. I am positive that Kirova is raging right now. And half of the faculty wants my head on a silver platter, getting away with you and all."

Lissa's heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, fear seized her.

"Rose… what if they find us? What if they bring us back?"

Her friend reached out and squeezed her hand.

"I'll protect you. I promise."

**A/N: Oh, Never I Have Done Before Land :) the fragile days just after their escape from the Academy pre-books. Also, thank you for your continuing support! Thanks to you, I had over 2300 pageviews yesterday! This is a new record, I guess :) Also, there's a new poll on my profile. Please, vote.**


	630. 628 Strawberry

**628. Strawberry**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 178<p>

Sometimes, Janine looks at Ibrahim and thinks about what was it that made her fall for him.

Maybe it was his looks – he was pretty dapper (still is, in his own way) when he was younger. Maybe it was his power – she's always been drawn to power, to powerful men. Maybe it was his charm and intelligence – that man could get everything he wanted with sweet talk. Maybe it was his thoughtfulness – because that was there, too.

They started dating during winter. He was a little pushy, she remembers – always wanting to be near, following her around, even when the last thing she needed was him. And he wanted to know everything about her – what movies she liked, what music she listened to, _what brand of toothpaste she used…_

In one of her weak moments she told him that her favorite fruit was strawberry.

It was January. Cold and snowy and freezing, and the next time they met he had a bowl of wonderful, big, red, delicious strawberries for her.

So yes – that's why she fell for him.

**A/N: Wow, guys, you must love me :) Over 2k pageviews two days in a row? :D Thank you! :) Also, I'd like to ask for some help – there's some kind of commercial I always see parts of in different videos and gifs, a commercial featuring Stana Katic and Nathan Fillion – standing by a pool table, she is in a red dress, he in suit, purple shirt, golden tie (I guess?). I so wanna watch the whole thing but I just can't find it. Could somebody help me with it? Send me a link, or a way I can find it? (I don't even know what this commercial is supposed to be for!) Would you? I'd greatly appreciate it. **


	631. 629 Italy

**629. Italy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 179<p>

The last thing Sydney has expected to happen in her life would be having pillow talk with a vampire. But as we all know it, Fate has her funny ways.

"If you could go anywhere – anywhere in the world –, where would you go?" Adrian asks, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She stretches like a cat, letting out a little content mewl before answering.

"Italy."

"And why? What would you do there?"

"Be a tourist. See the places. Admire the architecture – the Leaning Tower of Pisa…"

"…No big deal. Bunch of idiots posing for even more idiotic photos."

"The Pantheon…"

"…That's a disappointment. You go in, and it's just like any other baroque church. Okay, the hole in the ceiling is kind of cool."

"The Coliseum…"

"…That's only a big pile of rocks."

"The Forum Romanum…"

"…Even bigger pile of rocks."

She leans in and places a kiss – soft, chaste – on his lips.

"And where would you go?" She asks. "If you could go anywhere in the world?"

"It's an easy question – wherever you are."

**A/N: Okay, that's cheesy. Sorry. Wish me luck – my toughest exam is tomorrow morning! (I feel like the Spartans must have felt before the battle Thermopylae – I have no chance of winning, but I'll fight :D)**


	632. 630 Pizza

**630. Pizza**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 198<p>

She tries being domestic, she really does. After all, it's unfair to expect Dimitri do everything around their apartment. She has to pinch in.

So she decides to cook for him – nothing fancy, just something simple for a start, something she can surprise him with. She decides on pizza – it seems easy enough: you just make some dough, put some sauce and toppings on top of it and push it into the oven. Easy. And even is she messes us, there's that saying: _pizza is a lot like sex – when it's good, it's really good, and when it's bad it's still pretty good._

So she can't mess it up that bad.

She still does – something's not okay with the dough and it sticks to her fingers and she just can't make a proper pizza shape out of it and it _tears_…

This is the way Dimitri finds her half an hour later – her hands covered in dough, her shirtfront covered in flour, the counter covered in… well, everything.

He only chuckles as he helps her clean this whole mess up.

After all, it's the thought that counts.

(But next time maybe she should stick to doing the dishes)


	633. 631 Found

**631. Found**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

Hans really couldn't decide whether he should be more shocked or angry (or maybe slightly amused. That was on the list, too.)

Because on the second shelf in the storage closet of the Headquarters, just between the cartridges of ink and stacks of paper, lay a pair of panties. Small, black, lace pair of panties. Sexy, too, not that he wanted to think about any of the Guardians under him that way.

…But for the love of God, some careless, disrespectful, mad girl – woman – had left her underwear in the storage closet. Which meant…

He shuddered.

No, he didn't want to think about what must have happen in the closet. Where he was standing right now. Not at all.

Who had it been – now, he wanted to know that (not really. But he had to keep order in his headquarters). So he tossed the panties to the 'Lost & Found" box and hoped that the culprit would come looking for it.

…Well, fat chance for that.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday, I had a killer headache :S But on the upside: I passed my written poetics exam and scored a translation job :)**


	634. 632 Crime

**632. Crime**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 157<p>

The definition of crime is… up to debate.

Of course, there are stuff we can't really argue about, like murder (but don't ask Strigoi about it), stealing (again: don't ask Strigoi, because, apparently, they have no qualms about stealing, either), treason, forgery, smuggling…

All of the stuff above are restricted by law, so, yeah, by definition (which is up to debate) they are considered to be crimes. But then there are things that are not put down on paper, but I am fairly certain that should be considered crimes. Major ones, nonetheless.

Like drinking the last of the coffee in the headquarters' breakroom, and not brewing a new batch. Like mowing lawn early on Sundays. _Like working on Sundays_. Like wearing stripped shirt with checkered pants. Or a man wearing pink and/or sequins.

I yawned and put the empty coffee jug back to its place.

Yes, not making a new batch is the biggest crime of all.

**A/N: I am resuscitating my Twitter :P We'll see what comes out of it. Until then, feel free to follow me; name's Orlissa**


	635. 633 Lavender

**633. Lavender**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

Everything of Rhea Dragomir's smelled of lavender.

This is the first and most prominent memory Lissa has of her mother – she smelled like lavender. Her hair, her skin, her clothes – even Lissa's little crocheted blanket what was always washed by Rhea, with her own hands, the blanket that protected her daughter from nightmares.

So to Lissa, lavender meant home. It meant warmth and love and safety. It was familiar. Soothing. Good.

Everybody else – aunts and mothers of her friends and ladies father worked with – smelled of expensive perfumes, their smells spicy, intoxicating, suffocating. Her mother was different, smoother, simpler, having less edge.

But then she died (her death smelled of blood and burned metal and tire tracks on the asphalt) and the soft lavender smell died with her (the last time Lissa saw her she smelled of disinfectants and antiseptics), leaving nothing else but spicy perfumes and calculating faces.


	636. 634 Bath

**634. Bath**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 151<p>

The whole situation is so deliciously awkward, so maddeningly arousing and sweetly domestic at the same time.

The bathroom in their new apartment has a bathtub – it's a small and sorta unattractive, built-in tub, its sides covered with cream colored tiles, an ugly plastic curtain hanging above it. But it's still theirs and they intend to make the most of it.

It's small – small for a man of Dimitri's height alone, but they still find a way to fold both of themselves into it, his knees bent, rising above the cooling water, her back against his chest, her nipples just peeking above the dying bubbles, while he moves the bar of soap up and down her arms, her chest, her stomach and lower…

Yes, it's kind of awkward but still domestic and rather arousing, above all, at the same time.

But next time they'll sure try to find a bigger tub.

**A/N: Hm, a little kinkiness – it's been a while, hasn't it? :)**


	637. 635 Vest

**635. Vest**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 149<p>

"This is crazy."

"New order. Put up with it."

"Still crazy."

"Still mandatory."

"Like a kevlar'd do me any good against Strigoi." I huffed. "Neck's still bare, technically offered to them to break and bite, while I am moving slower because of this damn thing." I was annoyed. Really annoyed.

…What Dimitri, obviously, found adorable. Because he chuckled. Honestly.

He pulled me closer and reaching for my side, he adjusted the Velcro straps, pulling the vest tighter around me.

"Still, it might come handy. It might save your life. And until this is the case, am I happy to tolerate it."

The corner of my mouth twitched.

"I still hate it."

He smiled and placed a tender kiss on my forehead.

"I can live with that. As long as you wear it."

I leaned against his chest, my arms encircling his waist.

"Do I have a choice? It's mandatory…"

**A/N: Totally unrelated, but I still have to ask: how come that, regardless of adaptation, Tarzan never has a beard? :D**


	638. 636 Scream

**636. Scream**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 167<p>

Eighteen years go by of Sydney's life before she sees a real Strigoi, even a dead one.

Before that, it's just stories – stories from textbooks, from legends, from father's fellow Alchemists. They are all the same (even the Alchemists', though she is fairly sure that not many of them have seen a real, breathing – _do they breath at all? _– Strigoi): Strigoi are horrible, ruthless, merciless. They are more like monsters than men, just as much in appearance as in manners. Their eyes glow red, their teeth shimmer white. They are sickly pale, with the glimmer of the need of the hunt in their eyes

The pictures of Strigoi conjured by her imagination wakes her so many times during those eighteen years – drenched in sweat, heart galloping, screaming. But then she is taken from home, taken from the US, taken to a place where Strigoi are not just a scary tale.

The first one she sees is dead. She doesn't look like a monster. Just a girl sleeping.

**A/N: Huge thank you to that unknown reader who nominated this story for the Best Vampire Academy Award :) Though the story does not qualify – as it was published in 2011, not in 2012 – this gesture still warms my heart :) Thank you :) Also, Of Eclectic Christmas Trees did make it to the pool for consolation :)**


	639. 637 Jelly Bean

**637. Jelly Bean**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 223<p>

"Damn, I've missed it," I say, reaching out for the small bowl on the coffee table, picking up a jelly bean and tossing it into my mouth.

Liss chuckles at me and, pushing my legs from the couch at first – so I am lying halfway on the couch, my feet on the ground – and sits down.

"What? Jellies?"

"No! You and me. Having fun, not caring about anything else. Having a good laugh, sharing secrets about our boyfriends. The whole pre-queenship us."

This time Lissa outright laughs at me.

"You do realize that you are technically on duty right now?"

"Yes. And I'll tell you, this couch has the best vantage point in the whole room."

"…And that, basing on your earlier comments, you really don't want to know about what I do with Christian behind closed doors?"

"I never said a word about things happening behind closed doors. I said 'secrets', not 'bedroom secrets'. Get your mind out of the gutter please!" I tease her.

"Okay, okay!" Liss laughs. "So… since you are technically working – tough it doesn't look like working to me –, and I refuse to spill secrets about Christian – where does it puts you?"

I grin at her and pop another jelly bean into my mouth.

"It puts me in a place where I am here for the sweets."

**A/N: I did my research (we don't really have Jell-O 'round here), and Google showed some pretty pictures of jellies that seemed like solid enough to be eaten with hands. Correct me if I am wrong, please.**

**Jan. 24****th****: EDIT Jelly beans in stead of Jell-O :) Hope it makes more sense now :) Thank you for the insight!**


	640. 638 Tea

**638. Tea**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

The tea Lissa has in the afternoon is expensive, served in delicate china cups, with a small plate of cookies next to the pot. She is expected to sit straight, her ankles crossed, skirt smoother over her lap. She is expected to wear a soft, but not too open smile on her face and make idle chit-chat. She is expected to be polite and regal.

It's tiring.

The tea she has in the evening is that kind of common, convenience store kind of blend. It is served from a big glass pitcher with a chipped handle and drunk from ceramic mugs. Now, nothing is expected from her; she can lay sprawled on the couch in sweats and a tank top and have a loud, sometimes even lewd, conversation with her best friend, laughing like the teenagers they are, their faces clear of make up, their hair up in messy dos.

She likes the evening teas better.


	641. 639 Raspberry

**639. Raspberry**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 185<p>

Lissa loves raspberries – she always has – but she doesn't eat them. She just simply can't. Not anymore.

The first time she ate them, it was Andre who picked them. They were so small, she even smaller than him – she was maybe around three – and there was this cluster of wild-growing raspberry bushes way back behind their house. Andre found the bushes, picked the deep pink berries and, since he was such a good sibling, shared them with her. She loved them, but it wasn't enough – she wanted to know where they came from.

The next day Andre took her to the bushes, without their mother knowing. When they got back to the house, their hands scraped from the thorns, their shirts soiled with the juices, their bellies full with the berries, their mother was furious. They got grounded for a whole week.

Later, the berry picking became a sort of tradition for them: every year, when the berries started to turn pink, they would go back to the bushes and pick them.

Up until the year Andre died.

So, yes – Lissa doesn't eat raspberries anymore.

**A/N: I'd like to ask you not to send any more prompts in (at least for now). I'd like to finish this batch what I have now, and then decide if I have any more juice left for this story. If I can still come up with new ideas. But don't worry! I checked – I still have 210 more prompts ('Shiny' amongst them. I so wanna write about it now, but… I… can't. Have to go one-by-one)**


	642. 640 Chocolate Chip

**640. Chocolate Chip**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

Sydney moans at the sensation.

It's just feels so good, almost heavenly, and she knows she shouldn't be doing this, but damn, she has being going without for such a long time and she so needs it right now…

"Hey, Sage! What are you doing?"

Adrian's overly cheerful voice startles her. She jumps a little in her seat and grabs for her purse, tucking that sinful thing she's been enjoying into it hastily.

"Nothing! Nothing at all…" She doesn't even try to make herself believe that he doesn't realize that she is on the verge of freaking out. The Moroi boy can be too perspective for his own good.

"Really?" he asks, sitting down at the table opposite of her.

"Really."

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent."

Adrian considers her for a moment, his eyes assessing her, his gaze resting on her lips for a fragment of a second, and then he shrugs.

"Alright," he says, then smirks a knowing smirk. "But maybe you wanna wipe that chocolate smear from your lip."

_ She is so busted. _

**A/N: Please, let me dump my frustration on you: my uni changed its online system around the middle of this semester, and the new system still doesn't work properly (we had two weeks with absolute no system, and even that was about three months ago). And now, it's time to register for next semester's courses – actually, the pre-registration ends next week, I guess –, and the head of the department has just sent an email with instructions how to register for the courses only **_**you still can't register for them!**_** Half of the required courses haven't even been announced; I have only registered for **_**half**_** of my required classes, but I know nothing about the other half! It's frustrating… and maddening…**


	643. 641 Chubby Hubby

**641. Chubby Hubby**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 204<p>

Some occasions simply call for sinfully delicious, calorie-filled ice cream. After eleven p.m. Especially after eleven p.m. (Ah… I'll just work it off at the gym.)

One of these occasion being your best friend having a fight so bad with her boyfriend of three years that she even questions if they are still together.

Lissa's a mess – red, puffy eyes, smeared mascara, slouching shoulders (the girl never slouches). I am pretty sure that the only thing keeping her together is the fudge in the Chubby Hubby.

I don't even dare to ask what they fought about. I only sit with her, waiting for her to talk, eating ice-cream.

"I hate fighting!" she says finally. "Don't you hate fighting?" Her voice sounds kind of dazed. Can one get drunk on ice-cream?

"'Course I do."

"But you still fight with Dimitri."

"From time to time. It comes with being in a relationship."

She lets out an interesting noise, somewhere between a sigh and a snort.

"And how do you get over it?" She looks so hopeless, it hurts my heart.

"Well, first of all, we fight our tension out. Then talk about the actual problems. Then have make up sex."

At least this makes her smile.

**A/N: Again, writing about something I've never seen/tasted. But from description, it sounds amazing :D Also, kudos to the company for promoting the acceptance for same sex relationships/marriages (I don't know how many of you know it, but my flatmate is gay – and he's such a sweetheart. Even before meeting him, the discrimination of gay people hurt me. But ever since I started living with him? It hurts me more.)**


	644. 642 Almonds

**642. Almonds**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 107<p>

Rose sniffed into the air, leaning a tad closer to Adrian, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"What?" asked Adrian, leaning back.

"You smell… different. Nice, but different." She sniffed again. "Kind of feminine, I guess. Like almonds."

"Almonds?"

"Yes. It smells sort of familiar. But I couldn't tell from where"

Adrian let out a little laugh, which suspiciously sounded forced.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Rose. I am pretty sure I smell like on any other day."

"If you say so," Rose shrugged, not believing him, but not pushing the subject.

Later that day, she bumped into Sydney by accident.

She smelled like almonds.

**A/N: I officially finished my first semester and passed all my subjects at the first try :)**


	645. 643 Leather

**643. Leather**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 140<p>

Rose smirks to herself – it's evident on Dimitri's face that he is completely in love with her new leather pants.

Although, pros of the pants end here.

Okay, they look good. Like, really good. They are especially good for her butt. Hell, her butt looks fabulous in it. (If Dimitri's face is any indicator.)

But they are… itchy. And tight. Not attractive-tight, but _oh, my God, I can't move, I can't breath_ tight. And it's squeaky. Honestly squeaky. And she doubts she'll be able to get out of it, while keeping it in one piece. And she hates it.

She catches Dimitri's eyes. Again.

She can't help the coy smile blossoming on her face.

"Do you like what you see?" she asks, teasing.

He nods. Barely.

"Good." Her smile vanishes. "Because it's the last time you see them on me."


	646. 644 Western

**644. Western**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 205<p>

Dimitri was a great fan of western. Rose had the occasional knack for sci-fi. Somehow they had to found a common ground – and that's how they found the series in question.

To say that they were skeptic of it in the beginning would be an understatement – it just didn't make sense! Pseudo-cowboys and space robbing hover trains? Please. But they had a lazy day ahead of them, the series was supposed to have a good reputation, and if they didn't like it, they still could have switched to watching – or doing – something else.

So the disc was put into the player, the first episode started and… their doubts evaporated in approximately eight and a half minutes. Because it was good. Really good. Like 'I want to watch it over and over again'–good.

When the double-length pilot episode ended they looked at each other, both a little apprehensive of admitting how much they liked it.

"Er…" Rose started, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "One more episode?"

Dimitri shrugged.

"Yeah, sure."

Needless to say, 'one more' turned into 'two more' turned into the whole series, with half an hour in the evening spent with trying to hunt down the movie.

What a common ground!

**A/N: Okay, I blame it on Kriszti, who makes my closeted geek self step forward, constantly quoting **_**Firefly**_** (We are big damn heroes!) – and who was nice enough to come with me as moral support to my hardest oral exam, and waited two hours patiently in the hallway while I was in with the teacher. **


	647. 645 Cowboy

**645. Cowboy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

"Okay, so let me get it straight…" Rose starts, leaning on one elbow, while tracing lazy patterns with one finger on Dimitri's bare chest. "You are big on westerns. You are big on cowboys. You even wear a damned duster just because of it. And you have never ridden on horseback?"

He chuckles.

"Not once. You know, dhampir: animals, horses included, don't really like us."

Rose's eyes widen a little as a small smirk appears on her face.

"So you want to try horseback riding!"

He sighs.

"I didn't say such thing."

She smacks his chest lightly.

"It was in the subtext."

"It's still near impossible," he says, still reluctant to admit it.

But she'll have none of it.

In one swift moment she has her tight thrown over his hip, affectively straddling him.

"Admit it, or else…" she starts, leaning in, her lips only an inch away from his.

"Or else?" he teases, closing the distance between them.

"…I don't know…"

Let's just say that the topic was forgotten for the rest of the night.


	648. 646 Bubble Gum

**646. Bubble Gum**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 186<p>

Hans was a great guardian. He was fast, strong, quick to make a decision. And above all, he was very focused – focused on killing Strigoi, on protecting Moroi, on administrative matters, technically on everything he had to do.

Like standing in front of all guardians at Court, giving a debriefing session.

But despite his many virtues, he still had his flaws. Like things making him lose focus.

Like bubble gum popping.

Which was currently coming from about… third row, fourth seat from the left.

He took a deep breath and continued talking.

_ Pop._

Damn it.

He tried to ignore it. He really did.

_ Pop._

He lost it, letting out a groan and marching up to the third row, fourth seat from the left (making three people jump up to get out of his way) and glared down at whoever dared to chew – and pop – gum during his speech.

Of course it was Hathaway.

Despite the angry look he was sure he was sporting, the girl didn't look scared, only looked up at him innocently and held up a half packet of gums.

"Do you want some?"

**A/N: Sorry, it's gonna be long, but I can't help it, I have to get it out of my system.  
>Yesterday, I got two reviews from anons (who, considering their writing style, could be even the same person), on chapter 1 (introduction) and 631. One of them was okay, after all, not hostile or anything, only not getting the point of these drabbles. The other, well, that's another issue. For further reference, let the review in question stand here as well:<br>**_**"I dont understand what this means, in a story u have more then 1 person talking right? So why dont u do this..? The chapters are way to short grammar needs work,it would be good if u would stop this and make a story about Dimitri and Rose raising a child together and sending it off to school like fun things to read about."  
><strong>_**Dear anon, or Jamie, as it's the name you left, let me tell you some things, even though I guess you'll never be reading this. Firstly, if you want to criticize me, at least have the guts to it logged in, so I can reach out to you and talk it through with you in person. Secondly, if you just read some of the drabbles, you'd understand why they are short, and you'd know that I have several people talking. Thirdly – I am not a native speaker, and so my grammar is not perfect, but I am working on it. What's your excuse? Fourthly, if you want to read about stuff like that, write it yourself. And search for it. I am pretty sure you'll find many stories like that. Don't try to make people write what you want them to write. At least not in this way. Because this way only makes you look stupid and big headed (and also makes me wonder if you'd ever be able to write a so-so story).  
>Sorry, my dear readers, I really had to get it out…<strong>


	649. 647 Cherry

**647. Cherry**

POV: Adrian  
>Word Count: 150<p>

Does, what should I call it, phantom smelling exist? I know that there is, in fact, phantom pain, occurring when somebody loses a limb and they feel the leg or the arm that isn't there anymore, but is it possible that you smell something that isn't even there?

So, does phantom smelling exist?

Because all day today I've been smelling cherries – no matter where I go, the smell follows me, swirls around me, taunts me, like a distant memory. I swear that I've smelled it before (apart from the actual fruit), but I still can't place it.

And it's driving me crazy (or it might be spirit that's driving me crazy; I am not biased).

Like a madman, I am searching for the source – the original source – of the smell all day, but without much luck.

Until dinner, when I am seated next to Sydney.

Her hair smells like cherries…

**A/N: Thank you so much for your continuing support! You guys are the best!  
>Also, in connection to this drabble, big internet hugs to those who can tell me who else uses cherry shampoo :P<strong>


	650. 648 Marshmallows

**648. Marshmallow**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

Milk. Instant hot chocolate. Whipped cream from the can (some into his mouth, too). Marshmallows. Two of them. After a second thought, he adds one more. She not only deserves, but needs it, after the day she had.

"One extra hot chocolate á la Christian for the lady coming up right now!" he exclaims, picking up the mug and walking up to the couch where Lissa is sitting. Hearing his voice a small smile appears on her tear-soaked face – maybe the first one that evening.

She takes the mug and mutters a heartfelt thank you. Christian settles down next to her, watching her sipping from her drink. His hand reaches out, seemingly without his consent, caressing her face.

He hates it. Ha hates that she's the Queen. He hates that it, the Royals, the courtiers hurt her, slowly destroy her. He hates it that he can't be always with her. He hates it that he can't protect her.

But at least he can give her hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. It's not much, but it's something.


	651. 649 Peanut Butter Cups

**649. Peanut Butter Cups**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 120<p>

The package comes three weeks after she arrives at Amberwood Prep. It's the first time her sister is trying to make direct contact with her since she's been sent here.

There's no message – no letter, no card. Not even a text or an email. Nothing.

Only a box of peanut butter cups.

Jill's fingers skim across the smooth surface of the cardboard box, thinking, analyzing, hoping.

It's… not much, but a start. Lissa's way of saying _'I think about you. I even care about you.' _It's oddly comforting. Not exactly what Jill wants (a real sister), but, yeah… it's a start.

She opens the box, takes one of the cups out and pops it into her mouth.

A delicious start.

**A/N: Sice so many of you have been requesting that I continue Brother Dearest… Well, I am not saying that I am working on it, but I am thinking about it. We'll see :)  
>Also, dear Disappointed Fan,<br>My main problem with Jamie was what my problem with you is, right now – since you didn't leave me a direct contact, I can't answer you/couldn't answer her privately. Believe me, I favor settling these kind of matters in person, but when I can't do that… And there are stuff I simply can't leave unsaid. **


	652. 650 Toffee

**650. Toffee**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

Karolina is content with her life; she doesn't regret a bit that she became a mother instead of a guardian.

But there are days…

There are days when Zoya is colic, she won't stop crying and she is never out of diapers to wash; Paul is throwing tantrums, he won't do his share of housework, his homework, won't tidy up his toys, his clothes are stained – dirt, grass, chocolate, paint – and he is demanding toffees. There are days when Yeva is even mysterious than usual, when Sonya is so indifferent it boils her blood, when Viktoria is doing everything she shouldn't…

There are days when she wishes she could be off, on the other side of the ocean with her brother, hunting Strigoi…


	653. 651 Fudge

**651. Fudge**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

Lissa sat in the huge and sinfully comfy armchair, her legs drawn up against her chest, a mug of hot tea in her hands, a little smile on her lips. She was just about to say something when Rose, sprawled out on the couch, lifted one finger, effectively making her friend shut up.

"Don't say a word!" she said, not even lifting her eyes from the book on her lap. "I don't want any spoilers."

"I was just gonna say that Fudge-"

"Hush! What part of 'no spoilers' don't you get?"

Lissa's smiled widened.

"What spoilers? You know, after a decade, all bets are off, anyways."

This time Rose did look up, her eyes narrowed.

"Okay, so I am a little _slow_… late. Whatever. But I still want to enjoy this damn book!"

Lissa only smiled.

**A/N: As far as associations go, toffee, peanut butter cups and fudge are pretty much the same thing. So, thanks to JKR for naming one of her characters Fudge :D Also, I am rather shamelessly quoting Nathan Fillion. Not even ashamed. **


	654. 652 Dollar

**652. Dollar**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 140<p>

Dogs bark, money talks.

This is the first really important thing Ibrahim has ever learned.

You can be smart, you can be strong, you can be cunning, you can be charnming – it all mean nothing if you can't pay.

If you can't buy yourself posture. If you can't pay for muscles and guns. If you can't buy yourself influence.

You can be anybody, but without money – you are nobody.

So his youth was spent with building the base of his fortune. He did things – nasty, bad things, worse things than he is doing now, things he is not proud of… But it all paid off in the end.

And that's the only thing that matters.

Because now, he has money – and so, he has power. And he can do whatever he wants.

After all, money makes the world go around.


	655. 653 Late Shift

**653. Late Shift**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 159<p>

Being a rookie guardian is often a pain in the ass (and let me tell you: no-one cares if you're the Queen's personal guardian). And the biggest pain that can be in a rookie's ass is the late shift – which, ironically, takes place during the lightest hours of the day.

During the day, when most Moroi are asleep, when the Court is silent, the guardian headquarters are… even more silent. And boring. I could fell asleep-boring. But still, somebody has to be there. At any given time. Because Hans said so. Because an emergency can happen any time. (It never happens.)

And this somebody, as I have already alluded, is usually a rookie.

Like Eddie and me.

At least once in a week.

…But there's a thing about boring, unsupervised shifts: boredom gives birth to the best ideas. To be more specific: the best prank ideas.

For example, that's how Hans' coffee mug ended up glued to his desk.


	656. 654 Light Switch

**654. Light Switch**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 200<p>

Sometimes Hans wished he worked during daylight hours. Sometimes he wished he didn't have such a good view at one of the two entrances of the storage closet. Sometimes he wished the gap between the floor and the storage closet door was smaller (nonexistent). Sometimes he wished the light switch in the closet wasn't situated on the only uncovered portion of the wall which was big enough for a man's (woman's) back.

But no matter what he wished, the things listed above were still facts – he still could see the light in the storage closet being turned on and off and on and off, again and again, quickly (what happened more often than he dared to admit). Approximately just as quickly as a man can…

No, he wasn't going there.

Of course, he could have gone in there when the switching was happening. Only… he didn't want to. He could've yelled at whoever was… having sex there at the given time so loud that their heads popped. Only… he didn't fancy yelling at people who didn't have their pants on.

But maybe… if he juggled well with the budget… he could get that door facing his office turned into wall.

**A/N: Big-big Happy (Late) Birthday to .Reader! I hope you like it :) ( I switched prompts for you! Today's prompt would have been Elmo, but I doubt I could've written anything remotely naughty about that…)**


	657. 655 Elmo

**655. Elmo**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 201<p>

"Mum?" Zoya said to get her mother's attention, her youthful voice high and uncertain. "The ladies on the street often look at Uncle Dimka in a funny way. Why do they do that?"

Karolina stopped, the dishrag stilling in her hand.

"In a funny way? What do you mean by that?" She turned towards her daughter. Zoya shrugged.

"Well, they blink a lot. And smile in a funny way. And sometimes they twirl their hair. And they are just being funny."

Karoline almost laughed in relief.

"They do that because they think that your uncle is attractive," she said, turning back to the sink.

"Atta… What?"

"Attractive. Handsome. Cute." She could have listed other adjectives as well, but she didn't think that they were appropriate for a child so young. "They do all that stuff to get his attention, because they want to be with him."

"Like go to dates and do kissy face?"

"Exactly."

"But he's with Auntie Roza!"

"Yes, but they don't know that," Karolina smiled. "And can you blame them? Your uncle really is cute, isn't he?" she asked, stepping up to her daughter and ruffling her hair.

Zoya shrugged.

"I guess… But I think Elmo is cuter."

**A/N: Don't you just love Zoya? :) Anyways, a little book recommendation: **_**The Summer Prince**_** by Alaya Dawn Johnson. I just finished it today (it isn't officially out yet), and let me tell you, it's not your average YA novel. It's completely different, it's new, it's daring and it has deep depth. Is technology good or bad? What real love is like? Can you love two or more people at the same time? Can they accept it? What are you willing to sacrifice for your dreams, your goals? And the ending – complete catharsis. Read it. It comes out in the USA on 1****st**** March. **


	658. 656 Suspenders

**656. Suspenders**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 248<p>

There is nothing better than a lazy girls' night in, spiced up with a little alcohol-induced buzz – not too much, just enough to reach the point where you are lying on the couch laughing, although you can't remember what you are laughing about, and that ridiculous sex-test in Cosmo just won't cut it, you just have to think something up yourselves.

"Okay, okay," Lissa says, taking a sip from her wine. "Here's the question: super hot, but not everyday, piece of clothing on a man?"

Rose thinks about it only for a moment.

"Do shoulder holsters count? Because they are damn sexy." Her voice is higher than usually, her words a little slower, and she is having such a good time.

"Shoulder holsters, really?" exclaims Lissa. "That's what you are coming up with?"

"Hell, yeah. Have you ever seen a man wearing them? O-oh… Makes me hot and bothered." She giggles. She actually giggles. "Why, what would your answer be, my queen? Dotted boxers?"

Lissa snorts into her drink.

"No! But if you really wanna know…" She motions Rose to lean forwards, and when she does, she whispers into her ear: "…Suspenders."

It's Rose's turn to snort.

"Honestly? What century do you live in?"

"Hey, they can be sexy. Elegant. Dapper."

"Dapper?"

"Yep."

"Show me one man wearing a suspender and being hot!"

"Is it a dare or a bet?"

"Whichever you want."  
>"Oh, you are so on!"<p>

Yep. There's nothing better than a lazy girls' night in.

**A/N: Okay, a few things: one, a new Zutara one-shot is up – my Secret Santa piece. Finally. Two, while you guys, I am sure, are currently hyped about The Indigo Spell, I am finally reading The Golden Lily :) So… Yep. Three, linking to this drabble, I am asking you: is there anything unique you especially find attractive? Like shoulders holsters for me. Hm? I'm interested in your opinion :)  
>…Four: is it a bad thing that the first thing that came to my mind upon reading the prompt was Capt. Mal Reynolds? :D<strong>


	659. 657 Garter

**657. Garter**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 196<p>

Dimitri didn't mean it to happen – although, he wasn't really against it, either.

He watched Sonya throw her bouquet from the distance, smiling and clapping politely when one of her cousins caught it – this was also the position from where he intended to watch the garter being thrown. His plans, however, changed: when Mikhail knelt down to slid the garter down Sonya's leg, he felt himself being pushed forward.

"Come on!" Lissa said as he turned back to see who was forcing him forward. "Go and catch that flimsy thing!" She smiled.

He shrugged and went. People were meant to have fun on weddings, anyway.

But, just for the record, he didn't even try to catch it. It fell on him. Accidentally. He just picked it from his shoulder.

The crowd just laughed and applauded. Somebody clapped him on his shoulder.

It took him a few minutes to get back to Rose – she was sitting at their table, wine glass in hand, amused smile on her face.

"I guess I don't really have a choice now, do I?" she asked, pointing at the white, lacy garment in his hand. He grinned.

"Well, you know that tradition…"

**A/N: Okay, so I'm reading TGL. Nine chapters down. So far: Brayden unnerves me. He just seems impossible. Something is up with him, I am sure. Same goes for Trey's cousin. Also, this book made me realize that I've been reading too many Castle fanfics: I keep reading 'Castle' in stead of 'Castile'. And when Dimitri was referred to as 'ruggedly handsome'? Damn… Could it be intentional? **


	660. 658 Boots

**658. Boots**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 175<p>

Lissa fell in love with them the moment she saw them.

Knee-high, black leather boots, with four inch heels and decorative metal buckles and chains along the sides. They were simply gorgeous – things like you see on the catwalk or in the fashion magazines. She so wanted them.

Her stylist – because no royalty can live in the twenty-first century without a stylist – was less then enthusiastic about them. She said the boots clashed with her style, that they were way too wild compared to her demure, solid wardrobe. Lissa was annoyed – she was eighteen and she was changing and she was still looking for her real style yet. The boots didn't clash with her _style_ – they clashed with the _image_ people around her wanted her to adapt to. She hated it.

They fought, she and the stylist, and the stylist won. Instead of the chained masterpiece, she got a tame, boring pair of ankle boots. And she also had to promise that she wouldn't buy those boots in secret.

Well, she didn't. But Christian did.


	661. 659 Sand

**659. Sand**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 189<p>

"Does it sound crazy that I want to go to the beach?" Lissa asks, looking up from the brochure she is reading.

After nearly a year of sitting on the throne, my friend is very much in need of a well-deserved vacation. Although at first she was pretty opposed to the idea, in the end I managed to convince her that the Moroi community won't collapse if she takes a week off. By now, we reached the point where all her spare time is spent with searching for the best location.

I shake my head.

"Not crazy… But are you sure? With all the sun and such?"

"You can go to the shore even during the night," she shrugs. "And there are so many things you can do there! Take romantic walks under the star… Do _other things_ under the stars…" She adds with a naughty little smile.

I cringe.

"Believe me, 'other things' aren't that romantic on the beach. The sand gets _everywhere_…" I say before I could filter my thoughts. Lissa's eyes widen.

"Are you speaking from personal experience?"

I try to produce a sheepish smile.

"…Maybe?"


	662. 660 Beach

**660. Beach**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 171<p>

Ibrahim is… hopeless. It should annoy Janine, but it doesn't.

Ever since things got sorted out around their daughter, he's been relentless: always being close to her, seeking her affections. Asking her out, sending her flowers or just being there, asking about her day.

It should feel awkward (they had a daughter, then spent nearly two decades apart, neither of them really taking part in raising her), but it's not. It's almost… effortless. Comfortable.

…So much like when they were young, before Rose came along.

She should keep her distance, she knows. A serious relationship in her profession is practically impossible. Reckless. Stupid.

Yet… her daughter manages it.

She really should give it a shot…

So when Ibrahim inquires if she can take a few days off, because he'd like to take her to the beach, she says that it can be arranged. That she'd love to go with him.

…Of course her opinion on the topic changes a little when she finds out that he meant the beach near Istanbul.


	663. 661 Surf

**661. Surf**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 175<p>

"Hey, Sydney, did you know that Jane Seymour has heterochromia?

Sydney shakes her head, looking up from her reading.

"What? Who has heterochromia?

"Of course you are asking that, not what heterochromia is."

Sydney simply rolls her eyes.

"Okay, so I am asking this: why is it important?"

Adrian shrugs.

"It is not. It's just interesting."

"And you just had to share it with me."

"Yes – it is interesting."

"Since I don't even know who Jane Seymour is…"

"The youngest Bond Girl ever. At least, she was. Back in the seventies."

"And pray tell, how did you find this information?"

"Well, I started with looking up Caravaggio, then I found this interesting link, which led to another site, which then, again, led to another…"

"So instead of doing homework, you were aimlessly surfing the net."  
>"…You could say that."<p>

"Why am I not surprised?"

Adrian doesn't have an answer for that, so he keeps silent. For a little while.

"And did you know that–"

"That's it. I am putting parental control on your computer."

**A/N: Just an interesting tidbit: I have central heterochromia – basically, my eyes are blue, but I have a golden ring around my pupils, what makes my eyes look turquoise-ish green from distance.**


	664. 662 Sheets

**662. Sheets**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 203<p>

Christian is a complete, incurable, utter, closeted romantic.

He not only remembers important dates (anniversaries, birthdays, even appointments) and facts (favorite flower, favorite chocolate, favorite color, bra size), he also likes make a (big) deal of certain events.

Like his very first anniversary with Lissa.

With his girlfriend being at meetings all day, he has plenty of time to prepare – to make dinner (delicious, as always), set the table, sprinkle flower petals on the floor, lit dozens of candles (okay, that might not have been such a hard job) and even change the sheets.

Oh, those sheets.

Expensive, deep red silk, with small, black embroidery on the edges. Smooth, soft, perfect. (Because he's still a boy, er, _man_, and it is perfectly clear how he wants this night to end.)

So, his plan and preparations are perfect. There's only one problem: Lissa herself.

Because he would have never thought that on the night of their first anniversary, the first thing his girlfriend would do is kicking her heels off, head to the bedroom (not even noticing the petals), fall face-first on the bed (not even realizing that he's changed the sheets) and start _snoring_.

Well, he can still bring her breakfast to bed…


	665. 663 Candle

**663. Candle**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

The wick frizzles, then catches fire. It burns for a moment, as long as Tasha lets it, then dies out. Then she tries again.

It is stupid, she knows. You won't become a Strigoi by being bitten by one. It's not that easy.

It was easy for Lucas and Moira.

Or was it?

What prompts a person to become a Strigoi? To become a monster? What prompts a _parent_ to do so?

She hardly registers the tear rolling down her cheek, seeping into the bandage over her wound.

She would never do it. She would never kill… never kill for _this reason_. For the reason to which she lost her brother and sister-in-law.

She sighs and turns to the candle again. _Just one more time_. She has to see that her magic is still intact.

The wick frizzles, then catches fire.


	666. 664 Australia

**664. Australia**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 183<p>

The question comes out of nowhere.

"Have you ever been to Australia?"

Sydney looks slightly to her right, trying to keep her eyes on the road and steal a glance at Adrian at the same time.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked: have you ever been to Australia?"

She can't help but laugh.

"Where did that come from?"

Adrian shrugs.

"No idea. Just curious. You know – Sydney, Melbourne… I see a pattern here."

She shakes her head a little, a giggle bubbling in her throat.

"Don't you start, not you, too!"

He holds up his hand in defense.

"Okay, okay, as you wish. But what's the answer?"

"It's a no." She's been to Russia, Egypt, England, Slovakia, Japan… but no to Australia. "I don't see so much allure in the 'every second animal can kill you'-thing. And it seems like vampires don't frequent it, either, because I haven't even heard about Alchemists being sent there recently."

Adrian only hums in consideration.

"But," he continues after a second, "would you go there if I invited you?"

Her silence is louder than any words she could say.

**A/N: First of all, Australia rocks! :) (Just to make sure that I have no resentment towards that fabulous country.)  
>Secondly, a few words on Once Upon A Time and Castle. This week's OUAT pissed me off a little. Regina's character development is thrown out of the window, Bealfire's reappearance is like it was taken from a soap opera, not to mention that it's completely illogical. If you do the math, you'll see that he should be at least like… 70 (being sent to our world before Regina was born!). Castle, on the other hand… It made me cry. Honestly. I rarely ever cry on films, but it did it. The scene where they find the van with the pool of blood on the floor? I was sobbing like a madwoman. Nathan Fillion so nailed it. I am loving that guy more and more every day. This episode was so heartwrenching and so damn perfect. <strong>


	667. 665 Owl

**665. Owl**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

For her birthday, Adrian buys her a delicate brass chain with a pedant of an owl on it. It's a rather stylized figurine, with simplified shape and rhinestones on the wings and the eyes. It's quite mainstream, the kind of pedant every second girl wears nowadays.

It still makes her smile.

"Why?" she asks him in a small voice after opening the cardboard boy hiding the jewel.

He shrugs.

"It's pretty, just like you. And it seems to be rather fashionable right now… and anyways, your cross is getting a little bit old…" _That cross she wanted to give him… _"So I thought it'd be nice if you had it. And owls are the animals of Pallas Athena, and she's the goddess of wisdom, so I guess it fits."

Now, she is impressed.

"Thank you. Really." She is grateful, that's it. Nothing more. And she doesn't even like owls that much, no matter that they are supposed to represent wisdom.

But the wears the necklace anyway.


	668. 666 Buy

**666. Buy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 213<p>

Dimitri never mentions Adrian – at least not in the context of him and Rose – until a day when he and Rose are cleaning the apartment, and he stumbles upon that bottle of perfume Adrian gave her, right after they first met.

The cardboard box is torn and covered in dust; hardly any misses from the liquid – it's clear that she hasn't used it in a long time, has left it forgotten at the back of the shelf, but it still makes his heart clench a little.

It's an expensive perfume, he can tell – from the quality of the cardboard box, from the fancy glass, from how long its scent lingers around after Rose sprinkles it on herself (it has been a while, but he remembers).

And she deserves it – it, and so many other things. She deserves gems and gowns and trips to Europe, not on business, not on mission, just wandering about in the hundreds years old downtowns…

He wishes he could give her that.

Rose is uncanny (or are they uncanny together, and together alone? These days he can't decide…), and she always knows if something bothers him. She sneaks behind him and encircles his waist with her arms, leaning against his back.

"You can't buy love, you know that, right?"

**A/N: Oh, a little angst-fest… I blame all the Tumblr pages with gifs from 'Target', which, even after three days, make me want to cry. Anyways, don't you just love the number of the drabble? :D**


	669. 667 Bracelet

**667. Bracelet**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 168<p>

Her correspondence is being closely monitored – for threats and charmed objects that might harm her – so it takes a little bit longer than usual for Jill's letter to reach her.

Calling it a letter might be a little stretch – there's no actual message in the plain white, standard envelope bearing the Palm Springs Postal Office stamp (although Lissa can imagine Jill hunching over her desk, trying to write something, but her bubbly, talkative ways abandoning her, the words not coming. She can almost see her balling up sheet after sheet, throwing them over he shoulder, finally giving up altogether), only a small bracelet.

It's a friendship bracelet, the kind that originates from the Native Americans, the kind of that is made of yarn, woven and knotted. It's a simple design – cheerful stripes of lively blue and vibrant yellow.

It's… sweet. It's Jill's way of saying that she cares about her sister, even if that said sister…

Lissa takes a deep breath.

It's time she called her little sister.


	670. 668 Train

**668. Train**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 183<p>

The next time they visit Dimitri's family, they take a train from St. Petersburg to Novosibirsk – they could have taken a plane to the latter, but they still chose the hours long rattling journey. It wasn't cheaper, and it absolutely wasn't faster.

But it had… other appeals.

(Well, having sex on the train seemed exciting.)

Their coupé is nice enough, just worn enough to be considered antique. The coupé to their right is empty, the one to the right is occupied by an old lady who appears to be half-deaf. At least they don't really have to worry about keeping the volume down.

But… The Russian railways are not the best. The train keeps jostling. The two cots, one above the other, in the coupé are seem nice, but in reality they are hard and narrow and too close to each other, so they keep bumping their heads into the ceiling.

In the end, they spend the majority of the night of the journey asleep. In separate cots.

As it turns out, train sex is not at all as exciting as it sounds.


	671. 669 Office Desk

**669. Office Desk**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

The Moroi monarch had a nice office – a kind of office that made the Oval Office look a cubicle in an office building (okay, maybe the difference wasn't that big, but still).

Every ruler had adjusted the room to his or her taste, and Lissa didn't want to do any different: the upholstered armchair from the far corner had to go, alongside with the deep burgundy drapes. And she also wanted to get rid of that horribly kitschy painting hanging above the fireplace. She shuddered whenever she saw it.

But there was one thing in the office no-one dared to move, let alone replace: the desk. An old, massive mahogany desk with intricate cravings, that was said to be standing there ever since the Mori Court had relocated to the USA.

So whether Lissa wanted it or not, it had to say.

But it was okay – Christian seemed to be rather adamant about having her on the top of that certain desk.

**A/N: Why's that about every office equipment I end writing something lemony? :D **


	672. 670 Tax

**670. Tax**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Janine wasn't snooping around (let alone investigating…). She didn't look into those papers because she was looking for something. Something… illegal. And no, she didn't want to know what Ibrahim used his money for, let alone how much did he actually have.

She was just… curious.

To her surprise, Ibrahim's tax papers were startlingly… neat. Not a wrong number, not an item not accounted for, not one gained dollar not confessed. And, to top it all, everything seemed completely legal.

And then she looked into the column containing all the things he meant to write down from his taxes.

That column was clever – cashmere suits recorded as work clothes. The banquet he organized for Rose's graduation accounted as a business dinner. Various plane tickets for Rose, Dimitri and that Alchemist girl to Russia and back written down as business trips. That dress she had worn a couple of days ago for their catch-up date…

Oh, damn… She was going to kill him.


	673. 671 Musical

**671. Musical**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 148<p>

Her laugh is musical.

She doesn't laugh very often – the burdens of the day are heavy on her shoulder, keeping her laughter suppressed. But when she does laugh… it reminds him of chiming bells. High and careless and beautiful.

He knows he shouldn't be falling in love with her, because it's madness and it's impossible and it's crazy. There's… there's the age difference keeping them apart (they don't even belong to the same generation) and… and the social status and the prejudices of the society and…

Everything.

Oh, he doesn't have any hopes, only maybe one: that this, what they have right now, will last for a long time. That she'll never get tired of him. (He is not naïve: of course she doesn't love him). He knows they don't have an actual future together.

After all, she is the Queen and he is just her lowly bloodwhore.

**A/N: I've never done something like this before and it's so exciting :D Anyways, I've discovered a new Murphy's law for writers: when I went to class just after 1 pm, there was a story taking form in my head (this time it's not a fanfiction, sorry), and during my journey (bus-underground-tram-up a slope in 4 inch heels…) I had the plot from the start till the end. And now, at 11 pm, I just can't put into words…**


	674. 672 Pigtails

**672. Pigtails**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 224<p>

Okay, Dimitri'll admit it: he didn't see this coming.

At first, he can't decide whether it was supposed to be a joke (a bad, not very tasteful one), or a… what should he call it? A gift? A surprise (of the sexual kind?)

Technicalities put aside, here are the facts (he likes facts; when happenings and emotions get out of control, he can always go back to the sure facts): he got home, about ten… twelve minutes after he usually does. Front door closed, as it should be, hall empty. Her boots and coat in place. He called out for her and she answered from the bedroom. Her voice didn't carry anything out of ordinary, only the usual warm invitation.

And then he went to the bedroom and saw her – saw the state – clothes – she was in.

He stopped in his tracks.

Smart little black shoes. Knee-high white socks. Short – very short – pleated skirt. White button up, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, about three too many buttons left open (although it's the matter of point of view. For decency, it's three too many; for his liking, it's three more left to open). Necktie. Red lipstick. And pigtails.

Damned, sweet-sexy pigtails, with curled ends.

He gulps.

"Hey don't you wanna check on my homework?"

He decides in an instant: it's a nice surprise.

**A/N: Was it okay? Not too much? (My first picture for it was Kate Beckett telling Castle that she's gotten used to him pulling her pigtails, but I couldn't fit this concept anywhere).  
>Anyways, I just found out that, according to TV Guide Magazine, The Vampire Diaries, True Blood, Supernatural, Grimm, Game of Thrones and Once Upon A Time are sci-fi shows. I've been living a lie…<strong>


	675. 673 Carnival

**673. Carnival**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 209<p>

Back when they were still at the Academy, Lissa often talked about how she wanted to travel the world. She had been to plenty of places in the US with Rose when they had been on the run, and she had visited many places with her parents, but she wanted more. She said that she might even take a year off before college and use her free time to travel the world.

She even had a list – she claimed that it was still incomplete, though. Christian read that and found it amazing: Machu Pichu; the Great Wall; the Pyramids; the Rio Carnival.

But then all those mishaps happened and she was made Queen and these plans all went up in smoke.

For a long time they didn't mention the list, then February rolled around, and here came the time of the Carnival. Hearing the news, looking at the pictures, Lissa only sighed. The parliament was in sessions; there was no way she could leave the States, even if only for a few days – for a few weeks, at least.

But Christian didn't back down. It was his girlfriend and she deserved everything. And so if she couldn't go to carnival, he was going to bring the carnival to her.


	676. 674 Belgium

**674. Belgium**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 121<p>

"Any other place you would like to visit?" Adrian asks, somewhat off-handedly. Like he doesn't really care about her answer (he does. A big deal. Actually, he is cataloging all her answers to these kinds of questions for future reference.)

Sydney takes a moment to answer.

"Maybe Belgium. The architecture is simply beautiful, and let's not get started on the scenery and…" she notices Adrian's rather sour expression. "What's wrong?"

He scratches the back of his neck.

"Well… let's just say that I am not really welcomed with open arms in Belgium."

She gives him _the look._

"You mean you have been banned from there?"

"…That's another way to phrase it."

"Do I want to know?"

"No."

She doesn't push it.


	677. 675 Wi-Fi

**675. Wi-Fi**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

"So, how's the new apartment?" Lissa asked, smiling over the rim of her glass.

Rose shrugged nonchalantly, but was still unable to wipe off the stupid, love-sick grin off her face.

"It's great. Homey. True, we haven't had time to unpack everything yet…"

"And put up the curtains I bought you…"

"_And put up the curtains you bought us_," she repeated, "but it already feels like home, and…"

"And you have already taken the bed into use…"

"We have _most definitely_ taken the bed into use," she said with a small, naughty smile. "So, the apartment is great. Only, our new neighbors are not exactly the sharing type."

"Why would you say that?"

"…Because their Wi-Fi is password-protected."

Lissa couldn't help but laugh.


	678. 676 Chanel

**676. Chanel**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 219<p>

The bed smells like Chanel No. 5.

Lissa knows that the sheets have been striped, the pillows, the duvet, even the drapes around it changed. The mattress has been scrubbed clean, maybe even changed, too, but the scent is still lingering there, sunken into the wood, the wallpaper, the curtains.

She just can't escape from it.

Tatiana lived in this room. She slept in this bed, made her make up by the vanity, sprinkled the classic perfume on her neck sitting not ten feet from where she is lying now.

Tatiana died in this bed, a stake in her heart, her blood seeping into the sheets, but the metallic smell of blood and death not strong enough to overpower the scent of Canel No. 5.

Lissa has even found a bottle of it in one of the desk drawers…

She can't sleep. Not here. Not in this room, not in this bed, not with this smell…

Her breath comes short.

Tatiana died here, smelling like age and royalty and powder and silk and blood and death and Chanel No. 5.

Lissa gets out of bed, slips into her robe and slippers and leaves the room.

Sitting vigil by Rose's bedside is still better than sleeping here (Rose's room at least smells like antiseptics right now, not Chanel No. 5…)


	679. 677 Alarm Clock

**677. Alarm Clock**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 266<p>

If he really had to choose, Dimitri would maybe say that his favorite time of the day is five minutes before Rose's alarm goes off.

He loves watching her, and she is beautiful and breathtaking at any time, but there's a certain charm in those five minutes as her body slowly gains consciousness. He is always up by then, but in no hurry to get out of the bed. Instead he props himself on his elbow and watches.

At first, it's only a wrinkle on her nose, a slight furrowing of brows. Then her fingers twitch and she makes a half-turn in the bed, moaning softly. A minute passes and she usually realizes that she doesn't like the new position, so she turns back and draws up her knees, almost curling into a ball. Her mouth opens slightly as she sighs, having found the most comfortable way of lying, her hair wild, tussled, falling into her face.

Then the alarm goes off.

She groans and, without opening her eyes, starts looking for the phone. Sometimes he has to push it under her hand, otherwise she wouldn't find it. Then she cracks an eye open and glances at the time. She groans and tries to hide in the covers.

Half a minute passes and she pulls the blanket off her chin and half-opens her eyes, irises still glassy from sleep. She then smiles, in that shy, almost childish way she can only produce moments after she wakes up and she looks at him and says "G'morning."

Yes, this is the best part of the day for him.


	680. 678 Phone Call

**678. Phone Call**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 181<p>

It sucked.

They didn't even get three months together in peace, and Dimitri was already called away. Of course, in theory, Rose understood. They needed to learn more about spirit, the faster the better. Dimitri, with his Strigoi past, was an integral part of this study. And so was Adrian, but the former couldn't leave Palm Springs because of Jill, so Dimitri had to go down to him with Sonya, what left Rose… well, not alone, but _Dimitri-less_.

Which was almost as bad as being alone.

They spoke every night, of course, about small things, unimportant things, sappy things – damn, both of them had gotten so soft – like how they missed each other and how their beds were cold without the other and they made promises about what they would do when they were together again.

Sometimes it took long, long minutes to say goodbye. To hang up. (Sometimes it seemed impossible.)

And phone calls were okay. They took the edge of the longing – for a few hours. But in the end, they still missed each other terribly.

And it sucked.

**A/N: I just want you to know that I am reading **_**The Indigo Spell**_** right now (I am halfway through it). If everything goes as planned, I will have finished it by Friday or Saturday. Until then, please, no spoilers.  
>…Ouch. Whilst proof-reading, I realized I'd written 'Gil' instead of 'Jill' – Gil is one of the main characters in the book I am translating. I think it is starting to grow on me (it's okay, I guess, When I was reading <strong>_**The Golden Lily**_**, I tended to read 'Castile' as 'Castle'…)**


	681. 679 January

**679. January**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 267<p>

Sometimes Christian had to remind himself that even though he had nothing to hide from Lissa, it didn't mean he had to blurt out everything that came into his mind in front of her.

For example whom he found attractive. Because that, for some unexplainable reason, tended to piss girlfriends off.

Only problem is that he realized this after sharing this little piece of his mind with his one and only (because Lissa was his one and only, no matter what!)

…And his _one and only_ was currently giving him the look.

"I was just appreciating her assets…" he tried to save the situation. For some reason even he was aware of the fact that saying that '_even though he was on a diet he could take a look at the menu_' or that he '_has promised to be faithful, not blind_' wouldn't be his best options to defend himself. But, apparently, what he had just said wasn't the best, either.

'Juts keep digging that hole, Christian…" Lissa said, her arms crossed. Christian swallowed. Not a good sign.

He tried again.

"Look, although I do find her attractive – which, I guess, is only because she reminds me of you – she is a human, who is nearly twice my age, even if she doesn't look like it, and" he, with a bold move, took her hand, "why would I need anybody else, when I can have you?"

This seemed to melt Lissa.

"Okay, you are off the hook," she said with a small smile. "But we are not watching any more movies with January Jones in them."

"Deal."

**A/N: Dear 'Guest', it's a mean thing to send a review full of TIS spoilers when I especially asked for no spoilers. It's not cool to be a meanie.**


	682. 680 Birthday

**680. Birthday**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 189<p>

"It must suck."

"What?"

"Today being you birthday, and you not being able to celebrate it. Can't even mention it."

Sydney shrugs. Since Eddie and she are posing as twins, their aliases had to have matching birthdays – on a whim, they gave Eddie's when they registered at Amberwood, simply because that was further away than hers, so now, on her birthday, she has to act like it was just any other day. And it's okay – she has never liked to make a big deal out of it anyway.

"It doesn't suck as much as you'd think."

Adrian frowns.

"I don't believe you. Birthdays are important. Especially your birthdays. They should be celebrated throughout the land."

This makes her chuckle.

"If only you'd let me take you out to some nice place tonight…"

"No, I've already told you. I'm busy." Flimsy excuse, but it'll have to do now.

Adrian leans back in his seat.

"Okay, you're off the hook for now. But next year? Next year I'll make this wasted birthday up to you."

Does it make her a bad person that she just can't wait until next year now?


	683. 681 Dice

**681. Dice**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 121<p>

**Warning! Very minor The Indigo Spell spoiler ahead! (Nothing plot-related.)**

Her new car – although it's not the Ivashkinator, nor Latte – is nice: a used, royal blue Toyota with nice interior and pleasantly humming engine.

And yet, Adrian is staring at it somewhat… disapprovingly.

"What?" Sydney asks, her arms crossed. She is patient. She is level-headed. And she loves him. But she won't tolerate him trashing her new car. _Even is his is better_.

"Nothing. It's just… something is missing" he says, but doesn't elaborate. She doesn't push.

The next day he presents her with a little gift bag – containing an awfully tacky stuffed dice, the kind people hang on their rearview mirrors.

It is terrible. So not her. So, so not her.

But she still hangs it on her rearview mirror.

**A/N: Just for the record: I know nothing about cars. If you have any suggestions what car Sydney should get, I am open to ideas. :) **


	684. 682 Gamble

**682. Gamble**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 124<p>

Janine could be stubborn as hell – and Abe loved that about her.

And she was also very competitive – easily provoked – and he loved that about her even more.

So when she simply refused to give themselves another shot – because times were changing, look, their daughter was dating another dhampir, an ex-Strigoi spirit user was about to marry a guardian, and they weren't young fools anymore, so why shouldn't they? – he didn't beg. He didn't sweet-talk.

He simply presented it as a dare. A challenge.

"A game of poker. Texas Hold'em. You win – we part ways. I win – your Saturday night is mine."

Janine never backed down from challenge. He knew it.

He also knew that she sucked at poker.

(Their Saturday night was lovely.)


	685. 683 Tangle

**683. Tangle**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

Her alarm goes off, and she should turn it off… and get up… start her day… but she just can't find the willpower to do so.

Not to mention that little setback that she honestly doesn't know where her body ends and where Adrian's starts.

Her left arm is somehow wedged between his side and right arm. Her head at the crook of his neck. She can feel his breath lift her hair above her ear. His left hand halfway between the small of her back and her backside. Their legs are tangled beyond the hope of untangling.

And her alarm is still beeping.

Sydney sighs.

Let it beep (it's beyond her reach, anyways). It'll stop, eventually.

She burrows herself deeper into his embrace. Even she can sleep in every now and then.


	686. 684 Antarctica

**684. Antarctica**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 187<p>

Sydney arrives at St. Petersburg in January.

She is like a petulant child at first, angry – but only in silence, only in her thoughts, because she'd never dare to say it out loud – and disappointed because Russia is so not the place she wants to be. She can't see the onion-shaped, rainbow-colored domes or the history hiding behind every corner, every nook of the city; the only thing she registers is the cold.

It's cold – it snows without stop for five days after her arrival, and the temperature is way below freezing even at noon. No matter how many tights, sweaters, coats, scarves she wears, the cold reaches her bones (she is not actually sure whether the cold she feels is the actual weather or her inner rigidness).

Even Strigoi hate this weather. Three weeks in Russia, and no hit. She is getting fed up with the snow, the cold, the ice. She wants sunshine. She wants to have something to do, but nothing comes up.

She sighs.

For all that matter, she could be in the Antarctica now (maybe they have more Strigoi there. Who knows?)


	687. 685 Shame

**685. Shame**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 217<p>

Officially they shouldn't be able to share a room (just yet). Not officially Rose couldn't care less. But this doesn't mean that she doesn't try to make her walk of shame from Dimitri's room to her own as quiet and unseen as possible.

But of course, things never go the way they should – as she turns at the corner she almost bumps into her mother.

Janine's eyes widen as she takes in her daughter – shoes in hand, hair messy, shirt untucked, a button missing, small love-bite on her neck. Rose swallows and then – it's her turn to be startled.

Because Janine is very nearly in the same state as she is.

They stare at each other for a long second.

"Do I want to know where you spent the night?"

"No. do _I _want to know where did _you_ spent it?"

"No."

"So… It never happened?"

"No. we most definitely didn't meet this morning."

"Good."

"Great."

"See you at lunch?"

"Sure." And with that, and with a gentle nod to each other's direction, they part ways.

They never talk about it again (although Rose plans on telling her grandkids one day how hilarious it was to be caught doing the walk of shame by her mother, who was also participating in this age-old tradition at the time).

**A/N: I have a question for you guys: I have some of my original stories translated to/originally written in English, and I was wondering if some of you would be interested in reading them? Because if you are, I could put them on somewhere for you to read :)**


	688. 686 Blame

**686. Blame**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 189<p>

It's easy during the first few days.

Lissa convinces herself that she has every right to be mad at – to hate – Rose. She abandoned her, left her to go on a crazy, hopeless quest, to embark on a journey which held nothing but heartbreak and mortal danger for her.

She was Rose's responsibility, damn it! Ever since they had been little, it had been this way. Always. No man should be able to change that. No love, no morbid, crazy promises. Rose should have stayed at the Academy by Lissa's side, she should have never left, she should have never fallen in love…

This is where Lissa finally stops herself (it happens on about the fourth day).

She is disgusted by herself, she realizes. She is not thinking about Rose as her friend – but as a nameless, faceless Guardian who is ought to protect her, ought to give her life to protect hers, but never receiving any thanks for it…

A tool, nothing else.

This is also the point when she realizes that she should never blame Rose for leaving – if anything, she should blame herself.

And she does.

**A/N: Dear Everybody,  
>I have decided to carry this series until I reach the 1000<strong>**th**** drabble, which means 314 more drabbles to go. This also means that the number of prompts I am receiving is limited – right now I have 190 more in my little notebook, which means that 124, or more like about 130, since it is inevitable that some of the prompts got repeated, more prompts will be accepted – I can't guarantee that I'll write anything for those prompts outside of this limit. (Of course, on the other hand, I can only keep going until 1000 if I can get enough prompts :)) **


	689. 687 Curtains

**687. Curtains**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

It is the first time Sydney is going to enter a vampire's home – a place where Moroi have been living for years, maybe even decades – and she is scared. Sorta.

Usually she doesn't have an overactive imagination, but now it's running wild (it's crazy – she has known Adrian for quite a long time, seen his bright, mismatched furniture; she has met his father). She is imagining dark, stone walls with fire cones for lighting and red carpet and black drapes always drawn shut.

She is anxious (whether because she is about to enter a Moroi home or because she is meeting her boyfriend's parents, she is not sure).

But then she is standing outside the house in the light of the setting sun, with Adrian by her side, and she sees the curtains of the parlor windows: white lace with cream-colored drapes.

Somehow she relaxes instantly. (Her palms are still sweaty, though.)


	690. 688 Meaning

**688. Meaning**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 121<p>

When they are alone, and he is really relaxed, completely comfortable – usually in bed, just as they are coming down from their heights, their skin sticky with sweat, breathing labored, heart galloping –, Dimitri often talks to her in Russian.

He never intends her to understand his words – they are just sweet nothings: declarations of love, odes to her beauty in his own, simple words, nothing she really needs to know the meaning of; still, sometimes she wishes she understood. Or at least could reciprocate. But English is just to plain to express what she feels.

So she tells him about her love in the way she can: through touches and caresses and kisses.

This is a language they both understand.

**A/N: I don't know how much of the Hungarian situation has reached the foreign media, but if it has, and anybody has been worried about me, I just want you to know that I am completely fine :)**


	691. 689 Jog

**689. Jog**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

It's two weeks before Rose is finally allowed to get out of bed, out of her room, and go on with her life.

Sort of.

She is still not on active duty and it's getting on her nerves. She wants to be her old self again. The sooner the better. (Dimitri tells her that she is being stubborn and that she should take it easy. She knows he is right, but she won't admit it to him.)

So, the next morning she puts on her running shoes and takes off. She doesn't have big plans: two miles in a leisurely pace. She can do it. She knows.

After a quarter of a mile she can hardly breathe. Her lungs are burning, her heart galloping, her stitches stretching.

Okay, so maybe she does have to take it easy.


	692. 690 Adolescent

**690. Adolescent**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 213<p>

Abe wouldn't say that Janine is fuming, but… yeah, she is definitely ranting. It is kind of adorable. And more than a bit entertaining.

"She is only eighteen, Ibrahim! Practically a child. An immature, reckless…"

"And yet, she has already done things that were believed to be impossible before and she is the Queen's guardian and most trusted advisor," he cuts in. Janine huffs.

"Doesn't mean a thing. Vasilisa is not much better than her at this department, if we want to be honest." She waves the issue away. "And that's not what I am talking about. What I am talking about is that she is a… a teenager, and she thinks she is in love and now, on a whim, she wants to move together with a man she hasn't even known for a year–"

Abe sighs.

"One, I am pretty sure, based on her previous actions, that she isn't doing this 'on a whim'. And it also proves that, two, she doesn't only think that she is in love, and three –"

"You are her father. Shouldn't you be siding with me on this?"

"–And three: do I need to remind you what you did when you were eighteen?" Janine has nothing to reply to that with. Argument closed.


	693. 691 Brazil

**691. Brazil**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 161<p>

Rose is packing away the clean dishes, flitting from one end of the tiny kitchen to the other, while soft, be energetic samba music is playing form the stereo. And she is dancing.

Dimitri is almost completely sure that she is not aware of it – nor of the fact that he is watching her. She is twirling her hips, one step back, two steps right, her hair falling around her and she is raising her arms to put away a plate and her tank top hitches up a little, her hipbones peeking out, and he can almost see her in sequins and feathers and bright colors, dancing with thousands during the carnival, smiling that sultry smile of hers…

And now she is looking at him, dark eyes wide, lips opening, corners of her mouth tilting, and she is reaching for him, inviting him to dance with and he goes.

He doesn't know how to samba – but he trusts her to lead.

**A/N: My flatmate hasn't been home since yesterday afternoon, and I am pretty sure we have a ghost. It's getting kinda scary. **


	694. 692 Model

**692. Model**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 150<p>

When it gets too much, when Adrian is going through some rough stuff, when being with Micah gets strained, when she is all fed up with the lies she has to tell, when she feels like she can't take any more… Jill leans back, closes her eyes and dreams.

In her daydreams she is modeling again. Not only for Lia, but for many others, too. She is on the catwalk, and everybody stares at her, adores her. She is in Paris for Fashion Week, wearing dreamlike creations, giggling with the other models, champagne flute in her hand. She is having photoshoots, stylists and hairdressers flit around her, and she is successful and loved and not that gangly, awkward teenager she always feels like these days.

But then she has to open her eyes and the dream vanishes.

But one day… One day when this madness ends… She'll have it all.

**A/N: I really need a Castle-esque screensaver that reminds me that "I should be writing". Also, 689 Jog might have been "Joy", only I can't read my own handwriting…**


	695. 693 Contract

**693. Contract**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 144<p>

When they make the deal, Sydney almost expects Abe to draw up a contract.

She is not exactly sure what kind of contract would it be: written on parchment with quill in ink with nicely looped, lazy letters, with a wax seal on the bottom of the page, next to where she signs it with her own blood, or a lengthy one, typed and printed neatly on stark white office paper, worded in such a confusing jargon even she cannot understand, where she has to read even the smallest font to make completely sure she is not being made his slave?

But there is no such thing. No written agreement. _Nothing that can be found._

He simply offers her his hand.

"Your word is enough for me. Will you settle with mine, too?"

She does. She doesn't want this arrangement to leak out, either.

**A/N: I am pretty sure that the site's layout change is my personal karmic punishment for not paying attention during Typography lecture. Sorry, guys. **


	696. 694 Temptation

**694. Temptation**

**Warning! Mild **_**The Indigo Spell **_**spoiler!**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 188<p>

Dimitri has never had problem with concentrating while on duty – he has never had problem with concentrating, period –, but it seems like there is a first time for everything.

He can't help it – Rose just looks so damn gorgeous in that deep green dress, small bouquet in her hands, the only dhampir amongst the bridesmaids – like a goddess amongst men.

He swallows hard, the tendons in his neck tightening. It would be so easy watching her all night, as she flits from person to person, chatting about nothing and everything, as the lights dance on her dress, as she twirls that lock of hair that falls into her eyes, as she…

No. He is on duty. His responsibility now is to make sure no-one gets in uninvited, let them be human, Moroi, dhampir or Strigoi. He just can't spend the night staring at her girlfriend like some lovesick fool.

But he is a lovesick fool.

He steals a quick glance at his watch.

Twenty-eight minutes – that's how long he has until his break. And then… well then, he is going to do so much more than staring.

**A/N: Okay, I honestly can't remember what color Rose's bridesmaid dress was :S Deep purple is only a good guess. I'd look it up, but I don't have my copy with me :S Please, if I made a mistake let me know so I can correct it.  
>EDIT: Color corrected. Thank you, green was my second guess :)<strong>


	697. 695 Desire

**695. Desire**

POV: Adrian  
>Word Count: 141<p>

Dear Sydney,

I know sometimes you pay more attention to what you read than to what you hear, so I am writing to you. (And maybe because I am not brave enough to say this to your face.)

I want you. As banal it sounds, I want you.

I want every single piece of you, every cell, every molecule – the ones you are proud of and what you are ashamed of, the ones you love and the ones you hate. I can't even look at you without desire flaring up inside of me, something stirring deep within me.

And Sydney, you have to know, you are perfect. So perfect it hurts. It doesn't matter what you think, or what others tell you – you are perfect.

And I want you. You can't even imagine how badly.

I might even love you.

Adrian


	698. 696 Monica

**696. Monica**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 173<p>

Adrian talked in his sleep.

She found it out – as she was a light sleeper – pretty soon after they had started sharing a bed. Mostly, it was only unintelligible utterances. It was even cute. Then, sometimes, it was nonsense sentences, not very much unlike his mumblings when spirit took over. That, too, was cute. And then, sometimes, he would utter names.

Or more specifically a name.

And it was not hers – not Sydney. Not even Rose's. Not even his mother's or aunt's or whatever.

In his sleep, he muttered the name "Monica". Several times. Accompanied by a giggle.

Okay, so it might have made her upset a little. Hey, her boyfriend was saying a random name in his sleep, who, as far as she knew, could even be his lover!

So the next morning she cornered him and asked him about it.

And he even had the audacity to blush.

"Well, I don't know if you have heard about the series '_Friends'_?"

Okay… so maybe her boyfriend was a dork. An adorable dork.

**A/N: This might have or have not been (shamelessly) inspired by one of the latest **_**Castle**_** sneak peeks. Not even sorry. **


	699. 697 Aphrodite

**697. Aphrodite**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

Christian's plan was to attend this Halloween party.

Emphasis on the '_was'_. Past tense.

But as soon as Lissa steps out of the bathroom, donning her Aphrodite costume they picked out together (he is Ares; it's kind of kinky, dirty, and at least he doesn't have to limp), his plan is forgotten.

Because she is drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

Honestly. The goddess of beauty suits her well.

That hair, partially pinned up, loose curls falling down her shoulders. That golden bracelet, encircling her upper arm. That white dress, held up only by a couple of pins.

So easy to get her out of it.

With three quick steps he is standing in front of her, kissing her fiercely.

"I thought we were going to this party," she giggles into his mouth.

"There'll be Halloween next year," he replies. "But you are Aphrodite only for tonight."

"Well, I could wear this costume next year, too."

"Hush now…"

Needless to say, they don't make it to the party.


	700. 698 Indiana Jones

**698. Indiana Jones**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 160<p>

The Halloween party at Court is mildly enjoyable – good music, good refreshments (at least pricey), good costumes, but too many snobbish, snuck up people, who are not very happy about the fact that even dhampirs were invited.

Still, I try to make the most of it.

And it just gets better when Adrian arrives.

Donning a brown jacket and trousers, a bag hanging from his shoulder, whip in his hand, wide-brimmed hat on his head, he looks very pleased with himself, and even cockier than usual – if that's possible.

"What'dya think, Rose?" he asks once he reaches me at the bar where I am sipping my cocktail. "I am totally better than the original."

I snort, but a smile is tugging at my lips.

"Oh, please. You'd need at least twenty more IQ points and twenty pounds of muscle to even get near to Indiana Jones."

He only smiles and raises his drink in appreciation. Yeah, I still have it.


	701. 699 Karma

**699. Karma**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

Dimitri couldn't help but chuckle at his girlfriend, as she frantically emptied her desk drawer.

"Still nothing?" he asked from his seat on the bed, a smile hiding in his voice.

Rose barely groaned.

"But I was so sure I put the form here!" she buried her finger in her hair, messing it up even more. "If I don't give it to Hans today, he'll take my head!" And with that, she opened the next drawer.

"Maybe if you paid just a little bit more attention to your stuff… If you kept a little bit more order…" he started carefully, but not with the lack of humor, "then you wouldn't have so much trouble with finding your belongings."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Rose murmured absent-mindedly, upending her third drawer. The form was still nowhere in sight.

"So what have you learnt today?"

"That karma is a bitch."

**A/N: Since you are from all over the world: who has at least 20 Celsius, sunshine and a free bed right now? Because I am sick of snow and thinking about speding the rest of my spring break in a friendlier climate :P **


	702. 700 Reading

**700. Reading**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

"Do you ever read?"

Adrian's question catches Sydney off guard. She shakes her head in disbelief, then sweeps away a wayward lock from her eyes.

"Of course I read. You know that very well. You even mock me abut it, sometimes."

"Yes, you know a lot – embarrassingly lot, actually –, I am aware of that. But thinking about it, I have never seen you with a book in your hands."

"You have seen me reading for Ms. Terwilliger."

"That doesn't count."

She chuckles.

"And why not?"

"Just. Because I said so."

"So, please tell me… If I don't read, yet I know a lot… How do I acquire that knowledge?

He shrugs.

"You put your books under your pillow and learn by osmosis during your sleep."

She can't help but laugh.


	703. 701 Gift

**701. Gift**

POV: third Person  
>Word Count: 174<p>

Every single year Abe bought her a birthday gift.

At first, he was persistent. He bought tiny pieces of clothing and plushies and building blocks, and he sent all of them to Janine, asking her to give them to Rose. She sent all of them back.

Later, he became hopeful. He still bought the gifts: Barbies and little kitchen sets and even a pair of boxing gloves (his daughter was to be a guardian, after all), and he sent a letter to Janine, describing what he'd bought, and asking her to let him send them to Rose. She refused.

Then he became hopeless. He still purchased the gifts every year: jewelry and high-tech gadgets and even a car she turned sixteen. They remained in his storage. He didn't even try to speak with Janine about them.

But now, that he has finally met her, can finally be a part of his daughter's life – he is tempted to give all those gifts he bought over the years…

He doesn't care how ridiculous that would look.


	704. 702 Closet

**702. Closet**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 184<p>

Dimitri likes his things neat, organized. Everything in its designated place. Nothing out of order.

Rose… not so much. She just can't be bothered to put back everything to its right place. She actually enjoys a little chaos of her own kind around herself.

This contradiction of character wouldn't cause any tensions between them – it really wouldn't –, if it wasn't for the fact that, due to living together, they are forced to share a closet.

Now, that closet is the epitome contradiction. His half – organized, tidy, everything hanged neatly, shirts and coats and trousers lined up nicely. Her half – empty hangers and three or more shirts on one hanger next to them, complete disarray, shoes jumbled together on the floor.

For weeks after their moving in together, the closet was a constant source of quarrels. There might have even been some harsh words exchanged. (Some awesome make up sex experienced.)

But in the end, they sorted it all out – Rose tidied up a little, Dimitri let himself cut a little slack. It was a compromise.

And after all, relationships are all about compromises.


	705. 703 Jungle

**703. Jungle**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 155<p>

Father once told them about the jungle, far down South. Greenness wherever you look, rain, trees tall enough to reach the skies, animals small and big, many of them capable of killing you. Wilderness. Fight for survival.

Thinking about it now, the city is not very different from the jungle.

Before sending her to Palm Springs, the guardians take Angeline Washington D. C. at first, after the Keeper's village, the city is overwhelming. Concrete, wherever she looks. Buildings tall enough to reach the skies. People of every size and shape, leading animals of every size and shape on leashes.

It's scary.

At first, she can hardly get out of the car.

But then she remembers her father's words: in the jungle, only the strongest can stay alive.

It is a jungle.

She wants to stay alive.

So she has to be the strongest and fight down her fears.

She has to adapt to the jungle.


	706. 704 Victoria's Secret

**704. Victoria's Secret**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 177<p>

Okay, so her underwear collection is a little bit… basic.

No – it is practical. And solid. Nothing… coquettish. Exactly the underwear a good Alchemist girl should wear. And it is okay.

But why is this fact making her skirmish now?

She doesn't need lace or satin or… silk, to feel herself…

To feel herself what? Beautiful? Attractive? _Sexy_?

No, absolutely no. She is completely confident in her plain cotton bra and panties. Period.

But if (_when_) it comes to shedding her clothes in front of…

Well, let's be brave and say it: when she gets naked with Adrian – here. It's out –, she wants him to see something… well, something he likes. And based on what she knows about him, he doesn't have a soft spot for plain cotton panties and bras. Based on what she knows, he is more into…

She sighs. She really can't avoid it. She picks up her phone.

"Hi, Kristin? Look, I have a favor to ask you. Could you please come with me to Victoria's Secret? I really need your advice…"

**A/N: To all of you who celebrate Easter: Happy Easter! :) To those who don't: I hope you have a nice, spring weekend :)**


	707. 705 Regal

**705. Regal**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 179<p>

Lissa only gets to see her crown – gets to touch it, feels its weight, its texture, see its gems – once before the coronation.

It is beautiful, sure. But also intimidating. Terribly intimidating. She barely has the courage to touch it first. How could she? She is just a girl, a teenage girl, she is nobody, really…

This is where she stops. She is not nobody. She is Vasilisa Dragomir, last of her family (well, almost), a former princess and now the queen.

She is the queen, ruler of all Moroi, somebody with the power to change the things as they are now.

She is Queen Vasilissa.

She lifts the crown – it is heavy – and puts in on her head. She turns to the mirror.

The girl – no, woman – she sees in it is not herself. At least not yet. She is regal. Strong. Proud. Somebody worth following.

She embeds the picture into her mind as she puts the crown back to its place. It is something she wants to – she has to – remember.

She needs something to cling into.

**A/N: Thank you for the over 42K hits last month! You guys rock! :)**


	708. 706 Glory

**706. Glory**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 164<p>

As sad as it is, Dimitri saw it coming. Not exactly this scenario, of course, but ever since he had known the guy, Dimitri he knew he would end up something like this.

He had always known that Mason Ashford would die young.

He was a bright kid. Dimitri might have resented him because of his infatuation with Rose, but he still had to admit: Mason was talented.

And conceited. Cocky.

He was in for the glory. Whatever he said, whatever he acted like, what he really wanted was glory. That's what got him take off technically on his own hunting Strigoi, not even realizing what he was doing. Not even realizing his own boundaries.

What happened in Spokane is tragic, of course. It's terrible. But if it hadn't happened then and there, Mason would have been killed a year later, on another crazy self-mission.

Just because he wanted the glory.

But if you are a guardian, the last thing you want is glory.

**A/N: As for the 100****th**** episode of Castle: I want a murder mystery for my birthday! :D**


	709. 707 Silk

**707. Silk**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 154<p>

Black silk does it for him.

Rose learns it early in their relationship – Dimitri finds her technically irresistible in virtually everything: from sports bras to cotton panties with funny faces printed on them, from cheeky little dresses to training suits, from jeans and T-shirts to pencil skirts and button downs. But black silk – black silk drives him mad. In the best way possible.

She has this little, black silk shift, just long enough to cover her butt, the one she bought just for him… he loves that. And she knows that he loves that. Hell, it's a miracle that the shift's still in one piece, he loves it so much.

Whenever she puts that on… well, he does things to her then that are not meant for print. He just loses his mind then (black silk really does it to him). And she loves that.

…And crazy who thinks she doesn't exploits it fully.

**A/N: Dear Guest, here you are, your naughty Dimitri/Rose drabble :) But please, the next time leave some sort of name :) Thank you!**


	710. 708 Goya

**708. Goya**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 192<p>

When they decided to visit Museo del Prado while in Madrid during their all-around-Europe trip (Adrian's treat; he said she deserved it. And it was pointless to try to refuse: he already had had everything settled), Sydney feared that they would up in a situation like this.

…Well, not exactly like this, but something equally embarrassing. Maybe even something that in the end gets him kicked out of the country.

Adrian has been standing in front of the two pictures for a good ten minutes now, chin in hand, deep in thought. At first, one would have thought he was examining the two pictures – painted of the same woman, in the same pose, only clothed, the other… not so clothed – from the artist's point of view, paying attention to the brushes, the colors, the lights… But she knows better. She knows him better.

And how well she knows him.

A good quarter of an hour after they arrived at the two pictures, Adrian finally lets his hand fall, slowly nods and says:

"Yes, the right one is definitely better."

Sydney has no idea whether she wants to laugh or roll her eyes.

**A/N: A little explanation – again, I had some problem reading my own handwriting, and couldn't figure out whether the actual prompt was Yoga or Goya – I guess the former, but the latter seemed more interesting. I did a little research, and found the two paintings Adrian is… examining: **_**La maja vestida**_** and **_**La maja desnuda**_**. And from that point, there was no stopping for me :D**


	711. 709 Yoga

**709. Yoga**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 245<p>

"God bless whoever invented yoga pants."

Sydney ignores him – at least tries to ignore him. She is about ninety-nine percent sure that this is only his usual spirit-induced babble (or some kind of effort to flirt with her/drive her crazy), so she doesn't feel too guilty about it.

"I mean, have you ever looked girls wearing them? Cute girls, I mean," Adrian goes on, obvious to her ignorance. Or ignoring her ignorance. "I mean, I know you haven't. Or at least you never paid attention to them."

She can't help but smile a little at his tone. He is kind of adorable. Not that she'd ever admit it.

He goes on.

"Not that you should pay attention to how yoga pants make other girls' asses look. Really, I'd rather you didn't do that. Although you are definitely welcome to check out my ass."

It takes all of her willpower not to snort out a laugh and/or roll her eyes.

"I'd even model a pair of yoga pants for you, you know. Even though I am convinced I look better in jeans." He takes a short pause. From behind her back she hears the springs in the couch squeak as he stands up. "Or you know what? I look even better without them."

And then she hears the clicking of a zipper opening.

She swirls around, protest on her lips.

He smiles like the naughty twelve-year-old who deep down he is.

"I knew you were listening."

**A/N: Goya or Yoga, now you got both. **


	712. 710 Plain

**710. Plain**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 158<p>

Hans was convinced he explained his point plain and simple.

No PDA in the headquarters. No sneaking around. No personal, gossipy chit-chat. No wedding planning in the office (honestly – if he stumbled upon one more bunch of fabric watches…).

And yet: he found Hathaway and Belikov huddled together more than he found them at least three feet apart. Sonya Karp also picked up the habit of spending her free time in the archives. And Hans was almost one hundred perfect sure that Hathaway and Belikov used the old supply closet… no, he wouldn't even say it. And somehow half of the bullpen thought that pitching in on the planning of Tanner's wedding was the perfect way of spending their breaks. And any other time when they didn't have something urgent to do.

Now, either he wasn't that good at getting his point through, or guardians were getting stupider every year.

He was going to go with the latter.


	713. 711 Clench

**711. Clench**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 167<p>

Dimitri doesn't really understand what's going on, not until Rose is led away, not until the pressure of her fingers over his fades, not until the instincts of _protect her_ and _listen to her_ and _obey her_ quieten.

She gave herself over just so he wouldn't get into trouble.

(He would gladly let them lock him up again if it meant that the handcuffs would be taken off of her.)

She gave herself over…

His heart clenches, so painfully he feels like he is about to fall, like his chest is about the cave in, like his heart is about to stop. His grabs the front of his shirt, his hand fisting around the fabric.

_ She gave herself over…_

…And he didn't stop her.

…And now…

And now it doesn't matter what he's been telling her, what he's been telling himself, because it hurts, her selflessness, her sacrifice hurts, more than the flames and the silver stake did.

He still loves her.

Loves her more than ever.


	714. 712 Beauty and the Beast

**712. Beauty and the Beast**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 173<p>

Zoya has claimed them as hers for the afternoon, which means watching old Disney movies on video cassettes that have been played so many times (Rose can't help but wonder if these are the very same cassettes Dimitri and his sisters grew up watching) that the videos have become blurry in some places. (She makes a mental note to get Zoya some of the movies on DVD for Christmas.)

They are almost at the end of the movie, at the scene when the Beast finally turns human again, when Dimitri lets out an amused snort. Rose, fingers still treading through Zoya's locks, turns to him.

"What?" she asks.

"It's just…" He leans closer and whispers into her ear. "It's kind of like… us. You know, beautiful girl helps the beast redeem himself and find his true self again," he smiles.

Rose considers this for a moment, then shrugs nonchalantly, a grin on her face.

"Not really," she says and pecks his cheek. "You have never been hairy enough for this comparison to work."


	715. 713 The Little Mermaid

**713. The Little Mermaid**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 181<p>

The very first movie Lissa remembers watching is The Little Mermaid. She was maybe four when she first saw it, and fell in love with it: she watched the video so many times that it became blurry and her brother claimed that he became nauseous whenever he heard the opening notes of _Under The Sea_. Her obsession didn't stop there – she decided to learn how to swim and sing.

Swimming went well – swimming was nice. It was fun. Singing… not so much.

Her parents hired a singing coach for her. The old lady, who went by the name of Mrs. Smithson, and was the moodiest, strictest, most unpleasant woman she has ever known. The fact, that Lissa had absolutely no talent for singing, didn't help much.

The whole tutoring lasted maybe three weeks – when Mrs. Smithson snapped, and called her an obnoxious little brat, who'd better forget ever singing, Lissa started crying, and her father politely asked the teacher to leave.

She didn't try learning to sing again – although, she never stopped singing. (Not that her friends was happy about it.)


	716. 714 Mulan

**714. Mulan**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

As a little girl, like most little girls, Mia wanted to be a princess.

She wanted to have a tiara and big dresses, and she wanted to have a fairy godmother and go to balls like Cinderella, and wanted to fall in love at the first sight with the prince who saves her, like Aurora, and wanted to live in a palace and have a pet tiger, like Jasmine, or a fish as her best friend as Ariel, and she wanted to experience a love so overwhelming as Belle's or Pochahontas', and wanted to befriend all the forest animals, like Snow White.

But now, her mother dead, her father broken, _her world broken_, she doesn't want tiaras and dresses and balls and loves anymore.

No. Now, she wants to be more like Mulan.

She wants to be a fighter.

**A/N: Thing I learned today in Creative Writing class: if I write a 4-line-long sentence, it's a run on sentence. If Joyce writes a 4-page-long sentence, it's art. (And I just have to point out: Mulan is my all time favorite Disney movie :)) **


	717. 715 Cinderella

**715. Cinderella**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

Sonya had left behind her favorite pair of gloves. They were made of soft, fawn leather, ordered especially for her. It was Mikhail's gift for her for their first anniversary. She loved them, went nowhere without them – even during summer, she carried them around in her purse –, yet, when she turned, she left them behind, orphaned on her bedside table.

When he took off to find her and kill her, Mikhail tucked the gloves into his pocket. Even he didn't know why he needed this token. It wasn't like he had to try them on the hands of all the Strigoi he killed to find her. He just… needed them.

He wasn't a prince, , they were no glass slippers, there was no ball where they danced and there was no happy end for them.

The spell didn't break at midnight.

(But he still needed the gloves to keep him sane.)


	718. 716 Snow White

**716. Snow White**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 178<p>

The temptation was simply too great – Sydney, lying on the couch, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and even (napping in the middle of the day! He couldn't believe his eyes – magic must have been taking a lot out of her…), looking all peaceful and beautiful and fairytale-like, even if the coloring wasn't right.

Adrian really couldn't resist the temptation.

He stepped up next the couch, standing above her, then he leaned in, and…

She reached out and caught his jaw between her thumb and forefinger, pushing him away.

"Don't even think about it!" she warned him, her eyes still closed.

"But I am just trying to save you from eternal sleep! You know, true love's kiss and all?"

Sydney pushed herself up to her elbows, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"You do realize that Snow White wasn't actually awaken by the prince kissing her, right?"

Adrian seemed to consider it for a moment.

"But he did kiss her after she was woken, I am sure, and you are awake now, so…"

And he kissed her.

**A/N: I my copy of Clockwork Princess has finally arrived! (No spoilers, guys, really this time…)**


	719. 717 Rapunzel

**717. Rapunzel**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

Sometimes they would have movie nights in Jill's and her room. They'd watch silly, funny, romantic, girly films – sometimes they drove Angeline up the wall, sometimes they were quite enjoyable, but she watched every time nonetheless, simply because she was curious.

Simply because they hadn't had movie nights at the Keepers.

One night, they were watching a movie titled _Tangled_ on the tiny screen of Jill's laptop. It was about a girl with ridiculously long hair, who spent most of her life closed up in a tower, but longing to see the outside world. It was a nice movie. It made her think.

She felt for that girl closed up in that tower. The two of them were so alike.

Later that night, when the movie was over and Jill was sound asleep in her bed, Angeline sat at the window and looked out at the sleeping Palm Springs, its lights tiny, bright spots against the black sky.

She smiled to herself.

"And at last I see the light."


	720. 718 Disneyland

**718. Disneyland**

**Warning! Minor The Indigo Spell spoilers!**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 221<p>

"Okay, out with it – what are you planning?"

Their anniversary was coming up – their actual first anniversary, not some kind made-up lie to get information – and Adrian was up to something, and it was unnerving her, because she didn't know what it was, and things over which she didn't have power didn't usually end well (although maybe it was time she started trusting people a little bit more).

Adrian only smirked.

"Three more days. Can't you wait three more days? You'll ruin your surprise!"

Sydney was _this_ close to pouting.

"Three days is just enough time to go crazy. Please, tell me you didn't come up with something crazy lie…" She gasped. _He did not_. "Please, tell me you didn't book the Bunny Suite!

Adrian seemed about as put off by the idea as she felt.

"Why would I? Honestly, that room is scary. Honestly, with all those bunnies watching how could anyone–"

"Okay, okay! I get it. No Bunny Suite. Thank God."

"No, never."

"Then what? Just a little clue? Just to calm me down a little?" While speaking she purposefully leaned into his arms, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, knowing he would never be able to resist that.

Adrian sighed.

"Okay, a little clue… Have you ever been to Cinderella's castle?"

_ He did not… _


	721. 719 Crash

**719. Crash**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 164<p>

When Sydney was awoken by a tentative knock on her door at three a.m., her mind, barely awake, but never one to rest, immediately conjured up a wide range of worst case scenarios, what kept playing in her mind while she made the short trek from her bed to the door.

The dorm was up in flames.

The warriors had taken Jill.

Lissa's reign was overthrown.

The Alchemists had found out about her infatuation and had come to take her to the re-education center.

Ms. Terwillinger run into vengeful coven of witches, and needed her magical assistance asap. (Or could it be a pack of werewolves? Did they even exist? And what did they think of witches?)

Adrian was experiencing a spirit-induced mental breakdown/artist's block.

But when she opened the door – finally –, she only found Jill there, all wrinkled and messy haired and bunny slipper-ed, stifling a yawn.

"Can I crash with you tonight?" the girl asked sheepishly, her eyelids dropping. "Angeline _snores_."


	722. 720 Discreet

**720. Discreet**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

Okay, so, Sydney might have had it coming.

She has always been the one who kept the others in order – it is in her nature. As is propriety. Keeping a low profile. Remaining discreet. And keeping things that should be private – well, private. And okay, she might have given a lecture or two (or three) about keeping public displays of affection to the minimum to Jill and Angeline – do not make out in public, don't sit in the guy's lap, don't… She didn't usually get past this point. But still…

No. No buts. Karma's just like this. It gets back to you, especially if you are a hypocrite.

…But she only realized this after her picture was plastered all over the cover of Amberwood's school magazine, the photo capturing her kissing Adrian senseless.

Yeah. She has had it coming.

**A/N: Finished Clockwork Princess. I was right. (If you want to know about what, and are not afraid of spoilers/have already read the book, please refer back to 420 Standard)**


	723. 721 Sky

**721. Sky**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 218<p>

She is feeling giddy; the turf is soft underneath her, the slight breeze caresses her cheeks, the sun warms her skin. She is smiling at the white-puff clouds without even realizing it.

Adrian lets out a sigh next to her.

She turn to him, propping herself up on her elbows. He is lying on his back, head pillowed on his forearms, green eyes staring at the endless baby blue dome above them.

"What?" she asks, pushing a wayward lock behind her ear, laughter hiding in her voice.

He shrugs.

"I was just thinking. Have you realized that we all see the same sky?"

She is about to contradict him – no, they don't; people around the world see different parts of the sky, different constellations… But he's talking again.

"It's the same blue for everyone: for Moroi, dhampir, human… even for Alchemists."

She nods, thoughtful.

"It's not the same for Strigoi."

He closes his eyes.

"But it is. Only, they can't see it."

"But you can?"

"Of course I can. Just as good an Alchemist can. And you? Can you see the brightness of the blue? The softness of the clouds? Can you see the storm clouds and the lightening bolts and the rainbows?"

She leans in and kisses him, softly, barely grazing his lips.

"Better than ever before."


	724. 722 Hesitant

**722. Hesitant**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 239<p>

It's not that Lissa is putting it off – no, she's just waiting for the right moment, which never seems to arrive.

At first, she doesn't speak about it, because it's still so uncertain. Then she postpones it because Rose's s preoccupied with the Strigoi raid the Guardians are planning. Then it's she who's busy with Court hearing and such. Weeks pass, and she still doesn't utter a word, she just smiles and keeps it inside. But she can't for much longer.

She's already twelve, almost thirteen weeks, she needs bras a cup size bigger, she needs to buy looser blouses, and the tabloids can get wind of it any day now. And she still hasn't told her best friend.

The way it finally happens is not the way she planned it.

Rose's over, and they are having tea, and it just slips out of her mouth, between a laugh and a bit of brownie.

"I am pregnant."

Her words are followed by deafening silence – the grandfather clock is still ticking, the bird in front of the window is still singing, the springs in the couch are still squeaking, but the emotional silence is deafening.

Rose takes her time. She swallows. Lissa'd swear that her eyes are shinier than usually.

"I am happy for you," she finally has.

Lissa nods, smiling slightly. She knows that it's a lie, but she can do nothing to help.

She would, if she could.


	725. 723 Maneuvre

**723. Maneuver**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

Lissa is hardly ever angry, especially with her loved ones. But when she is, she is really scary – a frowning, foot-stomping, one hundred and ten-pound, lovely, terrifying creature.

Christian winced – not only because of the pain in his shoulder (and ankle and butt and eye and small of his back), but because of the intensity of her gaze, too. He won't get out of this mess easily.

"It's really nothing, love."

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. "No, it's not nothing – you had to be showing off, you had to act like you had as much training as a Guardian, you had to–"

"Still, I almost got it…" he tried cutting in, but it only seemed to make her even angrier.

"Don't even dare to think that I'll heal you." She said, turned around and marched into their bedroom. Christian, having nothing better to do, shrugged and limped after her.

At least black eyes are manly.


	726. 724 Medieval

**724. Medieval**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Emily has been working at this costume shop for four years, and she has had quite a few strange costumers with strange ideas and needs, but so far, this is guy wins the prize.

"I need a medieval dress – but a real authentic one," he says, gesturing wildly, a smitten little smile on his face. "Not a Roman one, or a renaissance one, but a real medieval one, like circa 1100 AD? But not a monk or something like that, okay? I still want to score, and doing that while wearing a cassock would be kind of… strange. But don't you have a knight costume? With a sword? Or wait! Don't you have a king one? With cape and crown and everything? But it really has to be authentic."

Emily can't help but crack a smile.

"Sorry for asking, but why are you adamant about being authentic?"

He scrapes the back of his neck.

"Well… my girlfriend is kind of a History-nerd."


	727. 725 Symbol

**725. Symbol**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 148<p>

He has been painting a lot of lilies nowadays.

In the beginning, they were only the recreations of her tattoo. Stylized, golden lilies on canvas, sometimes on the skin of a beautiful girl, partially obscured by blonde hair, sometimes amidst angry, grey, rolling clouds, prophesying difficult times, speaking about rows and quarrels and misunderstandings.

Then he started to read about lilies, what they meant, who they represented, and so his pictures slowly became more abstract.

He found out so much about lilies – they were extraordinary, the beliefs, the meanings tied to them so versatile. Lilies symbolized purity – virginity –, but also fertility. They were used in weddings and funerals. They were also used as medicine – some said their petals would turn beasts who had been humans once back to their original form.

Lilies were fascinating.

But still less fascinating than the girl who wore them on her cheek.

**A/N: Some time ago I asked you if you wanted to read my original stories – well, I am happy to announce that I've finally gotten around and started a blog for them :)orlissa . blogspot . com So far there's only one story up, but I plan to upload others shortly.  
>Also, I've started reading Rick Riordan's The Lost Hero (and thus breaking my promise of only reading obligatory stuff until my exam period…) I just wanted to let you know in case someone might wanna discus it :)<strong>


	728. 726 History

**726. History**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 204<p>

To be honest, Lissa hated History – she always felt haunted by it.

At first, there was the case of Saint Vladimir – the spirit user who would have gone crazy if it wasn't for Anna, the girl whose life he'd saved and then destroyed. The girl who had meant so much to him, and to whom he meant so much that she had taken her own life, not being able to live without him. Lissa couldn't look at Rose without thinking abut them, without fearing that she would destroy Rose's life.

Later, it was Alexandra – the Queen the people liked to compare her to, the young beauty, who had governed with wisdom and kind heart. The Queen whose eyes felt like following her wherever she went, waiting for her to make a mistake. The Queen everybody expected her to live up to. She doubted she could do it.

And then, of course, there was her family – the Dragomirs. The Dragons. So many great, influential people – her father, grandfather, and everybody before them –, whose footsteps she was supposed to follow.

She was so little compared to this colossal task.

To be honest, Lissa hated History – her life would have been so much easier without it.

**A/N: New short story on my blog! Also, I have a question for you: do you want me to stick strictly to my original stories there, or would you like to read other stuff (book/movie reviews, teasers for upcoming stories, funny daily life tidbits, etc), too?**


	729. 727 Dimitri

**727. Dimitri**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Sometimes she just likes to watch – likes to drink him in. Contemplating what's so… magical – capturing – amazing in him that has made her bound to him for an eternity (because a shorter time than that spent together is simply unacceptable).

Sometimes she thinks it's his jaw – strong, chiseled. Sometimes she thinks it's his hair – heavenly soft, softer than any man should have the right to have. Sometimes she thinks it's his chest – her favorite pillow. Sometimes she thinks it's his arms – strong and solid, always ready to catch her, if she happened to fall.

She can't decide.

But then he looks at her, and there's a spark in his eyes and a small, warm smile on his lips, and he is somehow glowing with some transcendental light and he says her name, in his deep, accented voice – _Roza_ – and the love he feels for her is almost tangible.

And then she knows.

It's him – body and soul and all, and nothing less.


	730. 728 Message

**728. Message**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 122<p>

_ Hello! It's Dimi … Dimka. Your Dimka. I am alive. I am myself again. It's not a trick, I swear._

_ …Well, I just wanted to let you know this. That I am alive. I am okay. I am a dhampir again, for real. I know it's unbelievable – even I find it hard to believe sometimes. Don't ask me how it happened, it's complicated. I'll tell you once I am home. Which is, I hope, soon. I am not exactly needed here right now, but some issues still have to be smoothed out, before I can leave, but… I'll be home before you know it. _

_ I miss you. Every one of you, so much. Even you, Viki. See you soon. I love you!_

CLICK.


	731. 729 Angel

**729. Angel**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

"Mia, sweetheart, you just look like an angel," her mother would always say, and it would make her proud, happy.

And she did _look_ like an angel from a child's book: alabaster skin, blue eyes, curly, blonde hair. She even did everything to emphasize this, so her mother would be right: her daughter was just like an angel.

Only it wasn't true: she might have looked like an angel, but never acted like one. She was impulsive, scrounging, downright mean, sometimes even ruthless. But it was okay, until her mother only saw the angel in her.

…But then her mother died and she became a weeping angel. She broke into a million shattered pieces and then started to rebuild herself, using her pain as glue. She lost her angelicness: the white skin, the twinkling blue eyes, the perfect curls. She didn't mind.

Because for the first time in her life, she started acting like an angel.

An avenging angel.

**A/N: First of sorry, for the delay in update – I was out last night, then a friend slept over, so I couldn't write. Secondly I'd like to thank Susanna – who doesn't have a profile here – her support and kind words :) You rock, girl!**


	732. 730 Trigonometry

**730. Trigonometry**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

Sydney likes trigonometry. Trigonometry is easy; clear. It's either black or white, nothing in-between. If one of the angles of the triangle measures ninety degrees, then a squared plus b squared equals c squared. As easy as it is. No other options.

Real life is so much different – there are no absolute answers. No blacks and whites. Only grays.

If, in real life, you are taught strong beliefs, beliefs about how bad vampires are, how dangerous and immoral and unnatural they are, and then meet a guy, a Moroi, who is your total opposite, who oh so often drives her up the wall… You should end up hating him, right? (A squared plus b squared equals c squared…)

But no.

You end up loving him.

It's crazy.

You like trigonometry much better. You can understand how trigonometry works. Black and white. Facts and rules and no almosts and in-betweens and maybes.

But still, you love him.

**A/N: I know I haven't published anything worth a while since like… February? But a new story – my first Castle one – is in progress right now (that part of progress when I'd say it's about 80% done), so expect it in the next couple of days :)**


	733. 731 Focus

**731. Focus **

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 192<p>

Before we start, we have to make something clear: Dimitri was intent on reading that report. He really was. He meant to devote all his attention to it. It wasn't his fault that Rose was distracting him.

And it wasn't even like she was doing it on purpose (at least he was almost sure of it). She was just walking around the apartment, in a tiny, tight T-shirt (which left her hipbones bare) and a pathetic excuse of a pair of shorts (come on, they barely covered her ass), and somehow he could always see her from the corner of his eyes. He could see as her hips swayed as she walked, he could see her lush lips, her hair falling freely to her back…

So yes, maybe he couldn't pay that much attention to the report as he had intentionally wanted. Even though he really had to be up to date with it…

Oh, to the hell with it!

The next time she came within his reach, he grabbed her, yanked her into his lap, and – damned report forgotten – kissed her.

(Later – much later – she admitted she had been doing it on purpose.)


	734. 732 Game

**732. Game**

POV: Adrian  
>Word Count: 150<p>

It's a game, my sweet, whether you admit it or not.

We chase each other – I push you, make you uncomfortable, make you question your loyalties, until you have enough and take a step back. Then I relax a little; I stay away. Let you crave me a little. And then you come to me – you always come, without fail –, with sweet, harsh words and soft hands and tentative lips. And I let you, until you cringe back again, retreating to comfortable ground, to ill-meaning dogmas and principles even you don't believe in anymore. Then I wait until you calm down.

And then, everything starts again. I go to you; you come to me.

But one day, somebody will win this game (it will be me).

It is my favorite game.

And yours, too, my sweet, whether you admit it or not.

(And you want me to won, too.)


	735. 733 Control

**733. Control**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 203<p>

Thinking about it, it might stems from the fact that once she was his subordinate – his student – that they always fight for dominance, for control.

Oh, not on the battlefield; during a fight, they both know exactly what they have to do, where to stand, when to attack, when to retreat, how to have each other's backs. A fight is about winning, about surviving, not about control.

But once they are alone, hid away in their bedroom…

Sometimes Dimitri gets almost aggressive – picking her up, her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, he pressing her against the wall, taking her roughly, leaving teeth marks on her neck and breasts and shoulders, transparent signs of who she belongs to.

Sometimes Rose lets it all go – she tackles him to the bed, climbs over him, presses his hands to the mattress – sometimes even ties him, for good measure –, teases him with the view, with her nakedness, not letting him touch, then sinking onto him and having her way with him.

But it really doesn't matter who controls whom, because the act always culminates the same way, in a frenetic rush, taking their breaths away, leaving them pliant, sated.

In love.

**A/N: Okay, I guess this one has breached into the M category…  
>In other news, my very first Castle fanfic is up, under the title of <strong>_**Wonders of the Wandering Mind**_** :)**


	736. 734 Winner

**734. Winner**

POV: Adrian  
>Word Count: 186<p>

Winner, loser – they will tell you they are black or white. You either win or lose, as simple as it is. Don't believe them. Winning and losing are both relative things.

There was this girl once, a girl I was pretty smitten with. I was sure I was in love with her. She was beautiful and fierce and strong and so many great things, and I wanted her. I even got her for a short amount of time.

But the problem is, you see, that she was in love with someone else, and so I lost her.

I am a sore loser. Ask anybody, they'll back me up. I was unbearable, insufferable for months. I am not proud of it, but I won't deny it.

But then I met her – this other girl, who is somewhat more beautiful, fierce and strong and so many other great things. And I am love with her, for real this time.

If I didn't lose the first girl, I couldn't have won this one. By losing, I became a winner.

You see? I told you winning and losing are relative.

**A/N: In regard of yesterday's drabble – d you think I went too far? Do you want me to get rid of it, or anything?**


	737. 735 Game of Thrones

**735. Game of Thrones**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 147<p>

"Alright, so what's the big deal about this series?"

Dimitri's simple – and meant-to-be-innocent – question leaves Rose mock-gasping and stuttering.

"W-w-what's the big deal about it?" she repeats, her right hand placed over her heart. "You are honestly asking this?"

He simply shrugs.

"Well, yes. Everybody seems to be rather into it. I just don't get why."

"You have never seen a single episode." It's not a question. It's a statement – if he's seen one, he wouldn't be asking stupid questions like this - but he still shakes his head.

"Nope."

Rose closes her eyes for a moment, as if to calm herself – she is honestly taking it as if he was clueless about something trivial, like handling a silver stake –, then says:

"Okay, movie night tonight. You get the popcorn, I'll take care of the DVD. I'll make a Game of Thrones fanboy out of you."

**A/N: To be frank, I haven't actually seen a single episode of GoT, but everybody's so over the moon about it, so it's on my list. Also, I completely forgot: we've passed a second year-mark :)  
>And lastly, let's play a game: strongest compliment you've ever gotten? I'll start: "why can't you be a gay guy?!"<strong>


	738. 736 Innuendo

**736. Innuendo**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 232<p>

It started innocently enough – a little bet between them, just a little teasing, just to see how much control did he really have; to see how long he could go without making one innuendo.

And to be honest, Sydney was impressed: five days into the bet Adrian was still in game, not a single dirty thing having had left his mouth in days. She was immensely proud of him; with this, he managed to show her and he could, in fact, be a little bit more mature and that he was capable of changing for her. So yes, she was proud and she was ready to let him know that.

She sat down on the couch next to him and snuggled close to his side, their bodies pressing together, her head on his shoulder.

"Don't you think I don't know what is going on," she said, a little smile tugging at her lips. "You are so smitten. It's kind of cute. You getting all soft because of me."

His chest rocked as he let out a chuckle.

"Let me assure you, Sage, that despite what you think, you make me hard more often than soft."

It took him a complete second to realize what he'd said, and her two seconds to start laughing.

The bet was lost; she won.

And she didn't mind a bit. She was kind of missing him, really.

**A/N: I know I have used this pun before, but please, spare me.  
>…Oh, and it seems to start becoming a pattern: RD, S/A, R/D, S/A…**


	739. 737 Retire

**737. Retire**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

When Abe first brings it up, she laughs at him.

She, Janine Hathaway, guardian extraordinaire, retiring? No way. She'd fall in a battle first.

But still, the thought lingers.

It's in the back of her mind when her knee cracks during her morning jog. When she realizes she hasn't seen her daughter in nearly six months. When a new guy, fresh out of the Academy, mops the floor with her in training. When a Strigoi gets her in a fight, breaks her arm, and if it's not for Dimitri Belikov, even kills her.

Later, after her injuries have been attended to, she stands in front of the mirror and inspects herself. There are lines – small and deep alike – around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Her hair is slowly turning grey. She is nearly fifty. She is well past her prime.

And she has hardly lived yet. Hardly loved yet.

Maybe it really is the time to retire.


	740. 738 Mountains

**738. Mountains**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 178<p>

After he's been Awakened, he takes off. He wanders around the US for a time being, not really knowing what to do, where to go. He spends a few days in the mountains.

On the peaks, there is still snow; it crouches under his feet.

His memories are unclear, at best. He remembers everything… and at the same time, he remembers nothing. He knows what he did – he just doesn't know why on earth he would do that? He just doesn't understand all those kinds of emotions he used to have.

The snow… the snow brings a memory to surface. It's of Rose and him, in the mountains, she laughing, he lying in the blanket of snow, and they are talking about things that just don't make sense, like quiet and peace.

It stirs a whirlpool of feelings within him. But he doesn't understand them. He doesn't want them. These kinds are feeling are unimportant. They are good for nothing.

But then why does he want to lie down in the snow, look at the sky and _remember_?


	741. 739 Content

**739. Content**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 163<p>

Eddie had always been, well… content.

He was doing what he liked to do, what he had trained for all his life. What he was good at. What he was destined to do.

He had friends – great friends, reliable friends. Friends who stood by him, even if sometimes led him into trouble. Of course, he'd lost friends along the way, but he was a guardian – comrades die all the time, and you have to be able to bear this.

He was well-esteemed. People were aware of his abilities. They knew what he could do, what task he could deal with, and he was treated accordingly so.

He could see his life progressing this way – protecting Moroi, killing Strigoi, spending his free moments with his friends. Yes, he could see this happen until his hair turned gray, or his neck was snapped by a Strigoi.

So yes, Eddie Castile was content with his life.

But still, he sometimes caught himself thinking: _was it enough?_


	742. 740 Style

**740. Style**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 188<p>

Mia had always taken a good care of her looks – she wasn't a royal, her family wasn't rich, she wasn't really smart or anything, but pretty, and so she used this prettiness to get to where she wanted to be. She used to be popular, loved, powerful.

By the time of she was fifteen, she had become the queen of looking great with a miniscule budget – she explored all the good second hand stores and learnt how to modify the clothes if they weren't a perfect fit or had a little tear or stain. She learned which ones, out of the cheaper brands, were the best make up products, and learned how to apply them to look like she'd just stepped off a magazine cover. She curled hair into perfect ringlets. She changed the way she spoke.

She became a beautiful, perfect, living china doll.

She, back then, was proud of herself.

But now, as she stands in front of the mirror in old jeans and a worn T-shirt, her hair messy, her skin sun-kissed, her face free of make up – somehow, she likes this Mia Rinaldi better.


	743. 741 Fedora

**741. Fedora**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 231<p>

The original plan was that she was going to buy some new clothes for herself – because the ones she has now are too beige and too conservative and just simply don't show enough cleavage according to Adrian, and that is why her boyfriend had decided to come along – just to make sure she really does buy some acceptable (sexy) clothes. But of course things rarely go according to plan, and barely five minutes after arriving at the store, Adrian has already gotten distracted by the male accessories rack.

"What do you think of this one?" he asks, putting a charcoal fedora, the price tag hanging in front of his eyes. "Just like a twenties gangster, right?" And he even strikes a pose.

She can't help but laugh. Actually, he looks really handsome in it – but she just won't tell him that.

"More like an idiot," she says, taking the hat off of his head, ready to put it back on the rack, but before she could finish the movement, he grabs her arm, and gently leading her arm, he puts the fedora on her head.

"No problem," he smirks. She can feel as the hat sits askew on her head, casting a shadow on her face, and she can imagine what Adrian can see now – she can see it on his face. "I am sure it looks hotter on you, anyway."

**A/N: Is it a big problem that I am more anxious about Castle's season finale than my upcoming exams?**


	744. 742 Gown

**742. Gown**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 274<p>

It's been over an hour, he's bored out of his mind, his ass has gone numb and why the hell do they have to make such a big deal out of this damned gala?

Christian sighs and buries his fingers in his hair.

Sure, it is important, he gets it. Of course he gets it (Lissa makes sure of that). But what he doesn't get is why does a girl have to try on half a dozen (or more) dresses every single time she goes to an event like this?

"How does this one look?" Lissa ask, stepping out from the dressing room, one hand on her hip, the other high in the air, posing for him.

He looks up at her – she is beautiful, of course. She always is. The gown looks great on her – at least as much as he can tell –, but honestly, he fails to see why is this one so different from the previous ones; they are all long-skirted with a tight bodice, made of silk. If it was up to him, they would have left the store long ago with the very first dress she tried on.

"It's… really pretty," he says finally, with much less enthusiasms than the first time.

Lissa wrinkles her nose.

"I don't know… I don't really like it. I guess I'll just try on another one." And with that, she goes back to the dressing room.

Christian tries not to groan too loud.

"You know what, Liss?" he calls after her. "Next time we are hosting a gala, it should be a nude event. It would solve so many of our problems."


	745. 743 Hymn

**743. Hymn**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 157<p>

Olena had never regarded herself as an overly religious person; she knew her prayers, went to church on holidays, and that was it.

At least until her son graduated and left for the States.

Until then, Strigoi had always seemed like a far threat – something out there, but out of her reach. Something that couldn't hurt her family is they were careful. But then suddenly Dimitri was far away, fighting these creatures of the night every day as far as she knew.

Of course he called, he wrote letters, but it wasn't enough. She still didn't know if he was safe when she thought about him. She couldn't be sure he wasn't fighting, injured, dead or worse.

And she couldn't do anything about it.

So she prayed. She went to the church every week, stood with the sea of people and sang the hymns, asking God and the angels and all the saints to protect her son.


	746. 744 Quality

**744. Quality**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

The sheets she is lying in are crispy, rough, making her skin itch. The food she had for dinner was cold, poorly made. Her clothes lying next to the bed are worn, the legs of her pants are ragged, the color of her shirt is washed off. The room is chilly, and she can hear the wind howling by the window.

But still, it's the fourth place they have stayed in the last month, and it's not even the shabbiest.

Lissa sighs and pulls the covers closer to her body.

She remembers the down duvets, the gourmet food, the designer clothes. She remembers her room at home and her dorm room. She remembers her parents. Andrei.

She chokes on a sob.

Her life has changed; she has lost a lot. But, at least, she is still alive. She is still sane. She still has Rose.

And somehow they will get through this.


	747. 745 Sigh

**745. Sigh**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 118<p>

A sigh is Sydney's most frequent reaction to Adrian's antics.

She sighs when she finds him drunk, desperate to numb the madness looming over him. He talks crazy, and sometimes it drives her crazy, but she just simply sighs.

She sighs when he tries to crack bad jokes. When he throws innuendos around. When he tries to crack her shell with his charm and charisma. She smiles to herself, amused by him, flattered by him, but she just simply smiles.

And when he does everything to take her apart – when his lips are on her neck, his voice is in her ear and his hands _everywhere_…

Well, then she sighs, too.

And moans. And whimpers. And occasionally begs.


	748. 746 Fingertips

**746. Fingertips**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 244<p>

"Eddie, I can't feel my fingertips."

Eddie, despite his crappy evening (who wants to write reports on a Friday night?) and the fact that he is currently in the office, can't hold back a chuckle. Leave it to Rose to make this miserable time a little bit entertaining.

"It's not funny," she continues, with only a little whining in her voice. "I really think I have some kind of tissue damage. It's not natural to type this much in such a short period of time."

"Given that most office workers, secretaries, writers and whatnot still have all their fingertips, I don't really think that you are in danger," he smirks. "Especially since I haven't heard a click from your directions in minutes."

She sticks her tongue out at him.

"I am taking a break, so my blood flow'll normalize," she explains, stretching her arms over her head. "Anyways, thinking about it, it would be a great torture method. Forget the scratches with a silver stake – we'll just give the Strigoi some text to type if we need some information from them. They'll talk in half an hour."

Eddig pushes his keyboard away, puts his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on his palm, and leans closer to her.

"Okay, just tell me one thing: how will you make them actually type?"

Rose looks bewildered for a moment, then shakes her head, and, again, sticks out her tongue.

"I am still working on that."


	749. 747 Warmth

**747. Warmth**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

The snowstorm is raging outside, and even the living is not completely unaffected by the freezing cold, even though the fire in the hearth is blazing happily.

And yet…

Rose looks around herself – she sees Olena walking up and down in the kitchen, expertly preparing whatever they'll have for dinner; Yeva, as she sits in her old, rickety chair, knitting something, not saying a word, but looking up once in a while, stealing a glance at her family; Karolina, as she teaches Paul how to play chess; Sonya, sitting on the rug, playing with the two toddlers; Viktoria, lying on her stomach, a book open in front of her; Dimitri, behind her back, his legs aligned with hers, the two of them covered with the old, hand-knitted blanket…

She has never felt so much warmth in her life before.

**A/N: New Castle one-shot – a pathetic attempt to keep my sanity under the looming season finale – is up. **


	750. 748 Drug

**748. Drug**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 196<p>

"I love you hair," Sydney giggles. Actually giggles. "It's so… kinky."

It takes every ounce of Adrian's self control not to laugh out loud. Not that it would matter much. Not that she'll remember it afterwards.

"I like kinky hair… It's sexy.," she grins. "Especially on you." Her words blur together, her eyelids dropping, and she is just so damn cute. Adrian is tempted to fish his phone out of his pocket and record the whole thing, but he is afraid he wouldn't survive if she found the clip.

Of course he feels for her – the doctors say it's appendicitis, which is beyond what he can heal, but even if he could, he knows she wouldn't let him. So, painkillers. Surgery and painkillers, actually. Standard procedure and she'll be back on her feet again in no time, but he would still take it over from her if he could.

"Come closer!" she asks suddenly, waving weakly to get his attention. "I wanna pet your hair."

But still – drugged Sydney is pretty a adorable Sydney.

He should see if he can compel the nurse to give him some of the stuff Sydney has gotten for future use…

**A/N: Dear readers from the USA – I'd like ask you a favor. I am taking an American Culture oral exam on Thursday morning, and although I know the textbook and my notes pretty well, I am kind of behind on the current affairs. What is going on in the US that is worth to know of? I am thinking about new laws, budget decisions, homeland affairs… this kind of stuff. Could you please help me with it?  
>Also, Castle season finale? So many feels… And I am fangirling so hard it's not even funny…<strong>


	751. 749 Age Gap

**749. Age Gap**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 163<p>

Usually, Rose doesn't really feel the age gap between her and Dimitri. Despite the seven year difference in age, they fit perfectly; they inspire each other – she is a tiny bit more mature for him, while he is willing to go a little wild for her.

So yeah, other than the occasional disapproving glances they get, she doesn't really feel the age gap.

…But then they get into a heated discussion like this, and suddenly she feels so very young.

"No, I am telling you – the original series was better. First of all, it depicted Colossus correctly as a member of the X-men," he reasons, but she just won't give in.

"Hey, in the epilogue of _Evolution_, Colossus is an X-men! And anyways, the storyline was so much better in Evolution."

"You just don't have any respect for the classic version."

"And you just can't get used to the new stuff."

So, yes. the age gap might have a _little_ impact on them.

**A/N: Thank everybody who answered my call of help yesterday! You guys rock! :)  
>Anyways, <strong>_**X-men**_**, the animated series aired between 1992 and 1997 (so Dimitri at that time would have been 9-14), while **_**X-men: Evolution**_** aired between 2000 and 2003 (when Rose was 10-13). When I was about 13, I was a huge fan of **_**X-men: Evolution.**_** I even wrote fanfics about it – actually, it was the series that got me into English fanfiction (so thank this series everything I write! :D) **


	752. 750 Demons

**750. Demons**

POV: Viktor  
>Word Count: 167<p>

Everybody has their demons – there is no exception. Only, some of them are real, and some of them are only projections.

For some, these projected demons are bad decision; missed opportunities; lost loves. For others, they are dreams they will never fulfill; flaws they will never get rid of; addictions that will slowly kill them.

And then there are people, like my brother, who has been living with his demons for decades now. Their demons are almost palpable. Robert can't escape; he is closed up together with the demons in the prison of his mind. I can't help him, not really. Nobody can.

And, of course, there are people who create their own demons. Demons that are bigger than a missed chance or a foolish decision. Demons that are so big and powerful that can't be defeated, can't be chased away. No, they just loom over you, never touching, until you slowly go mad, break down and die.

I am one of them.

_ I am sorry, Natalie. _


	753. 751 The Future

**751. The Future**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

A year ago, back at the Academy, it was so easy to talk about the future. Half-joking about kids, deciding on names. They chose nearly a dozen names, like they would have that many kids. It was ridiculous. It was fun

But now? Now the future scares Lissa. She is not even nineteen yet, she has only been on the throne for six months, and she has done so much and there is still so much to be done, so much expected from her. Some royals are already pressuring her to marry – Christian or anybody else. Preferably somebody from their families. Others already expect her to bear an heir. Just to be sure.

No time lie back a little and relax. To enjoy her youth.

A year ago she couldn't wait for the future.

Now, all she wants is the past.


	754. 752 TV Shows

**752. TV Shows**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

They bicker about a lot of things – they have very different personalities, so it comes with the territory. It doesn't mean that they don't love each other. It just means that they bicker.

For example they bicker over TV shows.

Adrian prefers reality TV. The trashier the better, he tells her. He can go on watching the _Wives of Wall Street_ and its brethrens, snorting and tossing in sarcastic comments. It can drive her up the wall.

If anything, Sydney is more into documentaries. Give her a remote, and she'll change right away to NatGeo or Discovery Channel. The stories, the facts, the buildings, the theories – it all fascinates her, although Adrian finds them incredibly boring. He usually dozes off after ten minutes.

And so, at first, they bicker over the remote. Then they kiss and make compromises.

After all, they both like _Downtown Abbey_.

**A/N: Shameless Castle and Iron Man 3 references here. Can you spot them?**


	755. 753 Hunting

**753. Hunting**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

As soon as Rose and Dimitri are out of sight and hearing range, Janine can't help but cross her arms and roll her eyes. She just can't believe him.

"Hunting, really?" she stage whispers towards Ibrahim. "You really had to invite him to hunt with you?"

Ibrahim shrugs, apparently enjoying himself.

"Why? Hunting is a great sport. Masculine." She knows he can hardly keep himself from chuckling.

"That boy has gone through hell, and I am sure he'd do it again for you daughter, but somehow you still managed to scare him."

"Serves him right. At least he knows where we stand."

Janine snorts.

"You don't even hunt."

Ibrahim smirks, and honestly, it reminds her of a cat that has just eaten the canary.

"Yes, but he doesn't know that."

**A/N: I got back my American Culture exam results today, and I got a five! (Which is the best grade in Hungary) So – thank you again for your help and support :)**


	756. 754 Injuries

**754. Injuries**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 226<p>

The royals, her advisors, and technically everybody at Court frown upon it, but she doesn't care. She will not care. She is their queen – it is the least that she can cast their opinion aside.

And anyways, it's about her best friend.

Because Rose's work didn't end when Lissa was crowned – no, she still keeps running around, leading groups – small armies – to where Strigoi are suspected to nest. She searches, she goes, she fights and she wins. But she doesn't always come out of these battles unscratched.

A sprained ankle here, a broken rib or an open wound dripping blood there. Nothing life-threatening (yet), but Lissa doesn't care – the moment Rose is back from her latest mission, the first thing she does is to go to her and see if she needs to be patched up – and then she patches her friend up.

Most people don't understand it, and frown upon it; she is the queen, why care about a lowly dhampir girl? And the spirit – it can't be good for her using spirit this much.

But Lissa simply acts like she doesn't hear them. Let them say, think whatever they want. She knows better.

Rose is her best friend, who is working on a brighter, safer future, for her, Lissa, and for everybody else. The least she can do is to look out for her.


	757. 755 Magic

**755. Magic**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 171<p>

Yeva finds it amusing – how most people are adamant that magic doesn't exist (in the case of Moroi, that magic outside the elemental kind doesn't exist), but they still long for it, keep looking for it.

It is especially amusing that they keep insisting that she is a witch (and if she is, then what?). She likes playing with them – she keeps to herself, she cackles, she makes up predictions that later she mixes up with her real visions. Just to have them a little scared.

But what the most amusing thing is that these people who are so desperate to find magic are the ones who never see it.

They never see the sun cast a spell over earth as he rises. They never revel in the soft shine of Lady Moon. They close their ears to the songs of Mother Nature. They are blind to the power that binds us all – love.

All the magic you'll ever need is all around you – you just have to reach for it.


	758. 756 Healing

**756. Healing**

POV: Third Person (No Person?)  
>Word Count: 136<p>

"Do you want me to take a look at it?"

"No, thanks. It's fine, Adrian."

"How can you be so sure? I'd really like to examine it. And then heal it."

"Don't strain yourself, it's nothing."

"Now, it might be nothing, Sage, but who knows how it'll look like tomorrow? You can get a nasty infection if you leave it unattended. They are not pretty. In the end, you might have to have it cut off."

"I've already cleaned it. I don't think there's much more I could do about it."

"You could let me heal it for you."

"No."

"It'd only take a moment."

"No."

"But–"

"Adrian, it's just a paper cut! Leave it alone, will you?"

Silence.

"Can I at least kiss it better?"

A shadow of a smile on her lips.

"Alright."


	759. 757 Cluedo

**757. Cluedo**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 230<p>

It's rare when a guardian has to investigate murder cases – I mean ones not committed by Strigoi –, but it happens. Usually, if we are called to the scene of a suspected Strigoi attack, but it is soon proved to be nothing of that sort, the Moroi authorities seldom bother to take over the case. After all, guardians are just as good investigators as they are (at least that's what the Moroi say; if you ask me, we are better).

This is exactly what happened now – a suspected Strigoi attack was reported, we came here, only to find a young woman stabbed in her own study, lying in the pool of her own blood (what initially rules out Strigoi attack), a dagger sticking out of her chest.

Hans is professional as ever; he crouches next to the body, latex gloves on his hands and a thinking face on that would perfectly work in NCIS as well. He checks everything methodically, with extra care, but I can tell from his face that he has no idea what happened.

"But who killed you?" he mutters under his nose, talking to himself, but I am just simply unable to keep my mouth shut.

"My best shot is Colonel Mustard."

From the look Hans gives me I learn one very important things– I should get a filter that goes between my brain and mouth.

**A/N: I just simply adore murder mysteries, have I mentioned that? Oh, and this week I found an old edition of Agatha Christie's **_**The Pale Horse**_** in a second hand book shop – it was the very first Christie novel I ever read, back then when I was about twelve. So now I am extra happy.**


	760. 758 Sea

**758. Sea**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

It's her first official address as queen. It's terrifying. Surreal. Like waking up, but not escaping a dream.

It's been three days, and she still can't believe it. That they chose her. That they put the crown on her head. That…

Her hands are shaking. Her breathing is shallow. Sweat beads on her forehead.

She can't do it.

With a trembling hand, she pushes the curtains aside. Down below the balcony a sea is waiting for her – a see of people, with banners and flags, whispering, like the ocean, waiting for her.

She can't do it.

She must do it.

She takes a deep breath and steps outside.

The crowd below goes wild – cheering and shouting and laughing.

She tentatively smiles back and waves.

And in that moment Alexandra vows to herself – she vows that whatever happens, she won't let these people down.


	761. 759 Powerful

**759. Powerful**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 116<p>

His clearest memory of being a Strigoi is the feeling of greatness. The power. The knowledge that he can do anything.

The power to kill, anybody, without consequences. The power to have any woman, without feeling the guilt, without feeling that he has betrayed somebody. The power to drink blood and feel as it courses through him. The power to steal, to destroy anyone he wants to destroy, to be the one in charge.

The power no to take orders. The power to overcome limitations.

And the power to do this without remorse.

And now, months later, back at Court, back in Rose's arms… He is ashamed to admit that sometimes he misses having this power.


	762. 760 Thank You

**760. Thank You**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 240<p>

You don't know what to say.

You had it all planned – a whole speech you practiced in front of the mirror, you even tried out how you should wear your hair, like it mattered, you spent hours with it – but now, it means nothing. You can't even open your mouth.

Because now you are standing in front of him, in front of the boy – no, man – who saved your daughter.

No, you correct yourself – who brought your daughter back from the dead when some extremists – terrorists – anarchists – you don't even know what to call them – killed her, killed your innocent, fifteen-year-old daughter in cold blood.

And then he brought her back.

He looks just like a regular Moroi – like a typical rich royal, but he is also kind of tired, his shoulders falling forward, his eyes bloodshot, and if you didn't know what he is capable of, what power he has, you would never guess what kind of magic he wields.

But still he is the one who brought your daughter back, who put together her broken body and placed the breeze of life back into her, and you are standing in front of him, and you had a whole speech planned, but now your throat is dry and your eyes water and you just can't speak, so propriety to be damned you just circle his middle with you arms, hug him close and mumble into his chest,

"Thank you."

**A/N: Although there are no names, I hope it's clear who are the characters in this drabble :)**


	763. 761 Sorry

**761. Sorry**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 148<p>

"I am sorry for your loss."

That's all they can say – it's like a pre-recorded message, said so many times that the words are weathered by now, lulling into together, creating one single word –iamsorryforyourloss.

Her parents and her brother are dead, her life as she knew it is over, she'll never be whole again, she has lost her family, and all the doctors and the nurses can say is iamsorryforyourloss.

Like it means something.

It doesn't.

It is just a string of words, without meaning, without emotion, without compassion, only a social convention. They say it because they have to say it, not because they are really feel sorry for the fifteen year old orphan girl who she is now.

Iamsorryforyourloss.

She is alone, she is broken, she is lost, and she needs so much more than iamsorryforyourloss.

But there's nobody who could give her that now.

**A/N: That's what you get when I listen to **_**When You're Gone**_** five times in a row…  
>For the lovely annons out there: I can only answer your question if you provide me a "return address".<strong>


	764. 762 Butterfly

**762. Butterfly**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 198<p>

"Buttfy!" Zoya screamed happily, clapping her chubby little hands, promptly scaring the butterfly away. "No go!" she protested standing up and chasing after the insect with clumsy, toddler steps. Rose was right in her heels, one hand held out in case the little girl wanted to garb it – she was still kind of unsteady on her feet – the other ready to catch her if she happened to fall.

But Zoya didn't fall, only kept going after the butterfly, laughing gleefully the whole time, even when the butterfly only narrowly escaped her. And Rose couldn't help but laugh with her.

At one point Zoya grew tired – or bored, Rose couldn't tell – of the chase, and sat down on her diapered bottom. Rose, the babysitter in charge, settled down next to her. As soon as they stilled, the butterfly they had been chasing flew over and landed on Zoya's bright blue sweater, filling its wings lazily.

The little girl's eyes widened in amazement.

"Rose, look! Buttfy!"

Rose chuckled at her and pressed a kiss on the top of the girl's head.

In moments like this she wished that one day, no matter how, she could have her own little Zoya.


	765. 763 Shiny

**763. Shiny**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 119<p>

Dimitri knows that he should be mad at her, or at least not amused by her actions, but he just simply can't help it.

"You just don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?" he asks, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips, looking down at Rose, who is sitting on the edge of their bed, currently working on getting her shoes of. Hearing his voice she looks up, shrugs with a brilliant smile on her face, but she doesn't say a thing. "You just had to talk back to Princess Conta."

"Well, you know me," she starts and then pauses as she lifts her shirt over her head. "I aim to misbehave."

**A/N: I keep forgetting – I have a new poll on my profile, just a little survey, nothing big. **


	766. 764 Sleigh

**764. Sleigh**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 168<p>

Janine was tired, dead-on-her-feet tired, and it was ridiculous, and downright over the top, and she didn't care that it was their anniversary (although she wasn't sure what kind of anniversary it was: meeting for the first time, first date, first time messing up the sheets?).

So, she was gonna say no. No, scratch that – she was gonna say 'go to hell', because right now she really had no mental capacity for Ibrahim, but then he smiled at her, with the mischievous and yet secretive smile of his, which she had never been able to resist, not as a rookie guardian fresh out of the Academy, not as weathered, middle-aged woman.

So, before she could have stopped herself, she was already getting into the sleigh (a honest, old-fashioned, horse-draw sleigh, what she had no idea how Ibrahim got). Ibrahim settled beside her right away, drawing a heavy blanket over her frame.

It was ridiculous, really.

Ridiculously comfortable.

Ridiculously sweet.

Ridiculously romantic.

And she was asleep within five minutes.

**A/N: Okay, so a quite a few of you asked how yesterday's drabble connected to the prompt, so here comes the explanation: in Joss Wheadon's sci-fi/western blend series, Firefly (2002), 'shiny' is an often used slang word, meaning 'cool, awesome', and technically every positive thing. The series had a sequel movie, Serenity (2005), in which the main character, Mal (Nathan Fillion), delivers a speech about how until now he was flying under the radar of the government – smuggling, stealing… –, but now that he has something important in his hands, something the government wants to keep a secret, he'll do the right thing, and expose it to the world. He closes this speech with "I aim to misbehave". So, here you are – the explanation. Pure association :) (Anyways, watch the scene on youtube – just type "I aim to misbehave". Or better yet, watch the series/movie. They worth it.)**


	767. 765 Work

**765. Work**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 180<p>

Mikhail had somehow never considered being a guardian 'work'. It was a passion. A journey and a destination in one. All the questions he had and all the answers he needed.

Not work, or a job, or some kind of simple employment. It was so much more than that.

But then he found love and lost it, and all he knew turned into a mess, into chaos, where he couldn't tell right and wrong apart anymore. The answers turned into more questions, the destination into mocking distance.

The passion he felt turned into hopelessness.

And then, before he knew it, he was back at Court again, back at the headquarters, down in the basement, walking amongst filing cabinets like some kind ghost who got stuck between two worlds.

Being a guardian, fighting and protecting and _living_ – it wasn't a job. It was a life. It was fate.

But down in the archives, handling files and copying and copying and copying – it was less than a life, barely more than an existence. It was just work that had to be done.


	768. 766 Books

**766. Books**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 378<p>

Tatiana's office – it was hers now, though – was full of books. Shelves lined three walls, all full of old, leather bound volumes with crinkling pages and unbroken spines. They were beautiful.

And awfully pretentious.

On her first day in the office, Lissa lifted one of the books from its place, held it in her hands, felt its weight, its texture, and then opened it – the cover resisted, pulling back as she pushed it open. It hadn't been opened in decades.

Lissa shuddered and put it back to its original place.

On the second day, she wanted to make friends with the books. She kept stealing glances at them, but she just couldn't get rid of the feeling of the books were resenting her for being there instead of Tatiana, for not loving them, for not reading them.

On her third day, she decided she wanted the books gone.

They were the reminders of the old Queen, of the old regime, of the old system. But she was new, and she wanted new. The books, no matter how long they were there, no matter how many Kings and Queens had read their spines on their boring days, they had to go.

On the fourth day, she argued with her new secretaries. They said that books had to stay; they were a part of the office, a part of the tradition. Lissa told them where to stick their traditions.

On the fifth day, she said she was sorry. She made coffee for the secretaries instead of asking them to make some, and asked for their forgiveness for what she had said. Later, she sat in her office, silently observing the old volumes, trying to make friends with them.

On the sixth day, she did a bold thing. She brought in her own books – mostly ragged paperbacks with cracked spines and dog eared pages; one even had duct tape on its spine to keep it together. She stuck these books between the old ones, creating a beautiful, eclectic chaos on the shelves. She also added some knick-knacks – gaudy porcelain figures, carved wooden cats, she even hung that dream catcher Rose had gotten her for her sixteenth birthday.

On the seventh day, the office finally started feeling like it really was hers.


	769. 767 Home

**767. Home**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 232<p>

The walls are bare, painted in faded, boring-yellow, the floorboards are scratched, one of the tiles in the kitchen is cracked. The rooms are void of furniture.

The whole place feels… empty.

Rose swallows.

There is no going back now – their names are on the lease, the contract has been signed, the keys have been handed over. This is their home now.

Only, it doesn't feel like home.

Of course, she has never really had one – sure, she had the Academy, that's where she grew up, but still, it never was a real home. And then all the places where they lived with Lissa while on the run…

No. she has never really had a real home before.

At least not one like Dimitri has in Baia.

And now they are renting this place.

It's scary.

She is almost ashamed to admit it, but she is petrified.

But she is watching Dimitri now, the way he talks, walking around the room, pointing and planning, already imagining where will the dresser and the bed go, and they will be sleeping on the floor for a couple of days, he hopes it's not a problem? And they really need to do some grocery shopping, and the windows need to be washed…

She dares to smile.

She might not have had a home until today. But now… now she'll have one.

They will make one.


	770. 768 Food

**768. Food**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 222<p>

There are some things that essentially go with building and having a home, like paying the bills, cleaning and…

Well, yes. Cooking.

Rose is trying, she really is – she wants to transform this still bare apartment into a home, so she does what she can. So she cooks. At least she tries.

At first, she does it in secret, when Dimitri is not at home – she doesn't want him to witness her early failings –, and she just can't get the hang of it: everything she makes either burns, too salty, too hard to bite into or simply disgusting. And soon it becomes exhausting to make the ruin she leaves behind disappear.

She almost gives up.

She almost even cries one day, because she wants her mother with her, a mother who'd teach her this, show her how this whole unknown realm works, but honestly, Janine is even more helpless at it than her daughter.

She doesn't know how it happens, but a week after her almost-breakdown, a package arrives, addressed to her, and inside of it she finds a couple of notebooks, all of them filled with handwritten recipes and instructions, all in awkwardly written Latin letters and sometimes faulty English.

The following evening she surprises Dimitri with that black bread he likes so much.

It's almost as good as Olena's.

**A/N: here you go :) A little sequel to yesterday's Home :)**


	771. 769 Jasmine

**769. Jasmine**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

The bouquet of lilies arrive accompanied with a handwritten note:

_ Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?_

There is no name, no signature, but Sydney still knows who the flowers are from – it's just so him, the hinting, the wordplay, the subtle pushing. The encouraging to be herself.

No; the encouraging to accept him, to be with him.

And she is… she is considering his words, she really is. Because, as crazy as it is, she wants that. But not yet. She is not yet ready.

So, all she does is putting the flowers into a vase with a silly, smitten smile on her face, and tucking the note between the pages of her favorite book.

She won't say anything about it now. But later, at some point in the future, she'll question him about this whole princess-thing.


	772. 770 Tissue

**770. Tissue**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 172<p>

He is stoic. He is sitting, unmoving, silent, deep in thought, like a statue of granite.

He is waiting.

He is simply existing.

At least until he doesn't get some news. Any news.

He flexes his hands, fisting and then releasing them.

He doesn't even realize that Lissa's there until the girl offers him a tissue.

He hasn't even realized that he's been crying.

"Have there been any news?" she asks, as he takes the tissue. Rose's blood is still on his hand. The red seeps into the fragile paper. He dabs his eyes.

He shakes his head. He doesn't trust his own voice. There's something clutching at his throat.

Lissa sighs.

"She'll pull through. She is stubborn enough." It sounds more like if she was trying to convince herself, than she was trying to reassure him.

"She is strong," he says at last. And she is strong. He just isn't sure if she is strong enough.

Lissa hiccups and leans into him.

"Everything will be alright."

He wants to believe her.


	773. 771 Snow Globe

**771. Snow Globe**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 114<p>

Adrian finds it amusing that Sydney, this amazing, extraordinary, but terribly practical and down-to-earth girl, keeps a snow globe on her nightstand. And not just a simply snow globe – no, it has the colorful cupolas of the great Saint Basil's Cathedral encased under the thin glass dome.

It's kind of gaudy. It's so not Sydney.

"Do you miss that place?" he asks one night, leaning over her and picking the globe up, carefully turning it around in his hand, starting a lazy snowfall inside the globe.

She shrugs.

"The architecture is breathtaking there…" she says, her arms encircling his middle.

"But?"

She rests her head at the base of his neck.

"It's warmer here."


	774. 772 World Map

**772. World Map**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

Furniture in place, boxes all emptied, curtains bought (but not put in their designated places), the new apartment still misses something.

Something that is just so them.

For days, she walks up and down in the apartment, unable to feel at home, in spite of all their stuff surrounding her, in spite of their names on the lease.

In the end it's Dimitri – of course – who comes up with the genius idea.

There's a great, bare wall above their couch – a wall that had been mocking her for days before –, but as she comes home after her shift one night, she finds it covered: a huge world map covering the pale layers of paint, some places – Russia, Las Vegas, that ski resort near Spokane – marked with bright red dots.

And although Dimitri is nowhere in sight, she finds a post it note stuck to the bottom of the map, bearing his handwriting:

_ Help me discover more of this world?_


	775. 773 Keyboard

**773. Keyboard**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 109<p>

Adrian is not exactly sure why he starts writing these e-mails.

Maybe because Sydney will actually read them. She'll roll her eyes, of course, but she'll read them, and, if he's lucky, she'll even answer to them.

Okay, so maybe he is doing it to annoy her. Just a little. Just to push her buttons.

Or maybe he is doing it to make her pay attention to him. Not that he is that desperate. Or smitten. Or in love with her. Or anything.

But still.

He can't wait to read her response.

So a moment later the room is filled with the clicking as his fingers hit the keyboard.

**A/N: I guess many of you would be startled a little if you saw my keyboard – all the strange characters with diacritics and all :P  
>AN2: Sorry for the delay - there was some kind of internal problem with the site last night and so I couldn't update :S**


	776. 774 Wish Upon a Star

**774. Wish Upon a Star**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 189<p>

"Look there!" Adrian says, one hand on her lower back, the other pointing at the shooting star far above them. "Now close your eyes and make a wish!"

But she is Sydney, an Alchemist, skeptical and practical to the boot, and stubborn as hell on the top of that, so she just won't. Adrian is the dreamer out of the two of them. He is the artist. He wishes upon stars, not she.

Bt he just looks at her like that, that way only he can, so full of tenderness and love, so unlike that rowdy, irresponsible, irritating person he was when she first met him, so she just can't resist, so she just humors him and closes her eyes, her hands on the top of her heart, her lips moving, or more like trembling, almost unnoticeably, as she makes a wish.

Her reward is his dazzling smile.

"So, what did you wish for?" he asks, eager and curious, and she just can't help but kiss him, her hands cradling his face, pulling him down to her level.

"Why would I tell you that? Then it wouldn't come true."


	777. 775 Once Upon a Time

**775. Once Upon a Time**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 129<p>

PJs on, her teeth thoroughly brushed, hair combed, Zoya slips under the covers, wriggles a little to get comfortable, and then, head making a shallow dent in the pillow, tiny hand grasping the edge of the comforter, she looks up at her mother expectantly.

"Story?" she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

Karolina smiles down at her, her eyes soft with love.

"Sure," she says, turning to the bookshelf. "What do you want to read tonight? Cinderella? Sleeping Beauty? Baba Yaga?"

The little girl shakes her head, curls bouncing from one side to the other.

"No. Could you please tell me more of Uncle Dimka and Auntie Rose's adventures?"

Karoline sighs with the smile unwavering on her face, settles down next to her daughter and starts telling the story.

**A/N: When I was little, usually my mum wouldn't tell me the traditional stories, but would make up totally new ones. Like we had, I remember, this recurring theme about animals hosting and taking part in the Olympic Games. Thinking about it now, maybe that's what first got me into writing on the unconscious level. **


	778. 776 Happily Ever After

**776. Happily Ever After**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

"Don't you want a happily ever after?"

Those were Ibrahim's actual words right after she rejected his proposal after they found out that she was pregnant.

She only snorted at his words then. She was a guardian, for heaven's sake – she knew more of the world than to believe foolish things like happily ever afters. She believed in battles after battles, not victories and happy endings.

So they didn't get married. So they parted ways. So she had a baby and technically gave her up.

Her opinion, meanwhile, haven't changed a bit.

But now, looking at her daughter, nearly twenty years later, tucked into an alcove with her boyfriend – or what should she call Belikov? –, leaning close and whispering, like there was no-one else on this world…

Now she wants to believe in happily ever after.

**A/N: Cyber cookies for those who spot the Castle reference :P**


	779. 777 Heartbreak

**777. Heartbreak**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 172<p>

It hurt. Not physically, but somehow deep inside, in the innermost layer of her soul.

She was not enough – had never been enough. Not smart, talented, interesting, usable enough. Just plain, old Natalie.

A lone tear slid down her cheek.

She had been trying, of course. And she didn't want much – she only wanted her father to love her, to cherish her. To pay more attention to her than to precious little Lissa.

And so she did everything he asked her to do – she killed animals and sneaked them into her own room. She paid attention. She spied. She reported.

But it wasn't enough. It still wasn't enough.

But she just wouldn't give up.

A tear slid down on the other side of her face. She reached up with a trembling hand and wiped it off.

Now her father wanted her to kill and do the unthinkable. Become a Strigoi.

And she was going to do it.

Hands shaking, she reached for the doorknob of Mr. Nagy's classroom.

She didn't even hesitate.


	780. 778 Pounding

**778. Pounding**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 184<p>

Sydney groaned into her pillow.

"Rough night?" She felt the mattress shift as Adrian sat down next to her. And damn it, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Could you please talk a little quieter?" she muttered, although she wasn't sure how intelligible her words were. "My head feels like splitting open."

"Yeah, I can relate. Been there, done that."

"Why did you let me drink so much?"

"Because you are fun when you're drunk." And he was enjoying it, damn him. She could have slapped him, if even the slightest change in her position hadn't made her head pound even harder.

"How can you even bear a hangover like this? I've seen you after your wild outings, and you have never seemed this miserable." She more like felt than see him shrug.

"Years and years of practice, I guess."

She groaned again.

"Well, I don't want to practice it. I don't even want to drink, smell or see alcohol anymore."

Adrian sighed, then pushed her messy hair from her forehead and placed a kiss just above her brow.

"Aspirin?"

"Thank you."


	781. 779 No

**779. No**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 186<p>

When Lissa was younger, she had this romantic notion that a child's very first word must be either mama or dada. Because it's how the universe works. Because those are the words babies hear the most often. It's only natural that those are the words they first mutter clumsily, not yet entirely sure how speech works.

Right?

Well, turns out she was wrong.

"No!" her baby boy screams, slamming the spoon against the desk part of his high chair. "No!" he repeats, either for emphasis or just for fun.

Lissa suppresses the urge to scream back. Or just to scream, out into the nothing, just to get rid of the pressure building behind her eyeballs.

"Baby," she tries softly, taking the spoon form his hand and dipping it into the baby food. "Be good for momma, okay?" she pleads, the spoon slowly nearing the little boy's mouth.

But never reaching it.

He swings his little arm and knocks the spoon from Lissa's hand, the green puree landing on her blouse.

"No!" he laughs, clapping his hands.

Lissa groans.

She can't wait until he broadens his vocabulary.


	782. 780 Live

**780. Live**

POV: Lissa  
>Word Count: 114<p>

There is a difference between living and existing.

Rose has always lived – she has always been there, she has always been responsive, active, ready to act, to defend, to fight, to love, to live her life the fullest.

But I look at her now – now, mere days after the most horrifying Strigoi attack in the modern history of Moroi – and she is… She is just not there.

She went from living, in the matter of days, to existing.

Her face is blank. Her eyes red – she can't cry anymore. Her movements slow. Her words rare and quite.

She is broken. Not herself.

I can hardly look at her.

I want my best friend back.


	783. 781 Bruise

**781. Bruise**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 236<p>

"Don't you dare to laugh. I was manly."

Really, it's his words and his face that almost makes Sydney laugh, not the incident lying behind them. The incident, which involved a campus party she wasn't sure she wanted attend, some lax chaperones, a bowl or two of spiked punch, a drunk guy who tried hitting on her, and, of course, Adrian, who barged in like a knight in shining, but borrowed and unfitting armor, to defend her virtue, but ended up with a black eye and some cracked up knuckles. Maybe a fracture, too, it's not sure yet. Fancy, rich boy he is, he's been never taught not to hit a man with a closed fist.

"Sydney, I'm serious," he wars, flinching as she cleans the wounds on his hand. "I didn't risk my life for you to be laughed at."

She chuckles.

"Your life was hardly in danger. Although, I admit, your ego was. And I believe now it's severely hurt."

He snorts.

"Thank you. Really, thank you. So that's what I get for ma heroics. Sarcasm. You are one cruel woman, Sydney Sage."

"Why, what do you think would be the appropriate reward for your troubles?" She can't help it. She teases him. It's not something she does often, but this – she just can't let it slide.

"Maybe a kiss?"

A free, spirited laugh tumbles from her lips.

"I think that can be arranged."


	784. 782 Sleeptalking

**782. Sleeptalking**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 180<p>

Sometimes Dimitri deliberately stays up late, fighting sleep, risking taxing exhaustion the next day, just to have this little chat with her.

Because it's just so amusing and cute and adorable.

Rose falls asleep easily, she always has. Once her breathing evens out – he has it all tested out – he has to wait twenty, maybe thirty minutes, before she lets out a snort in her sleep, takes a quarter turn under the covers and smacks her lips together. And then, without fail, every night he's been watching, she starts talking.

"Sweet…" she says, her words muffled against the pillow, barely intelligible.

He can hardly suppress his smile.

"What's sweet, Roza?"

She grins and sighs, and answers only after it.

"Chocolate pudding and sparkles and…" another sigh as she burrows deeper into the cover. "And whipped cream. Out of the can. On your palm." She giggles. "You."

"So I am sweet?"

"Very. Need to see my dentist."

He chuckles and sweeps a wayward lock from her forehead.

She is remarkable when she is awake – and downright amusing when she is asleep.


	785. 783 Ice Cream

**783. Ice Cream**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

The sheets are sticky and even wet in a few patches, clinging to Rose's skin as she lies on her back, her side rubbing against his, stretching, almost purring, sated and pliant. She isn't even bothered by the remnants of the ice cream still on her skin, the icy droplets merging with her sweat, deliciously cooling her heated body.

She lets out a satisfied moan.

"Tell me again why didn't we do it sooner?" she asks, turning around and facing him.

Dimitri chuckles and rests his forearm against his eyes. She spots a droplet of strawberry ice cream near his elbow, so she leans in and licks it off.

He shudders, and her question remains unanswered.

Maybe this time she really rendered him speechless.

"I don't know," he says finally, "but I am not against an encore."

She grins and leaning even closer, kisses him.

"Then we are on the same page."

**A/N: Here – someone requested some R/D smuttiness not a long ago :P Also, please, wish me luck, I am having my last exam tomorrow morning. And then, if everything goes well, comes the blessed freedom. (Also, I wouldn't mind if you sent me some ice cream as well. It's hot as hell here :P)**


	786. 784 Weightless

**784. Weightless**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 170<p>

There's a moment, between the land of dreams and the land of the awake, when Mia feels… weightless.

She is almost out of her body, she is herself, yet she is somebody else. She is free all of her pain, her heartaches, her regrets, her wounds, her worries. She is free; unbound.

There's this moment, when she is almost aware of the world around her, but only almost; this moment she wants to last, but, of course, it's only a moment, and a blink later she feels the pillow under her head, the duvet over her body, her curls plastered to her forehead.

And she remembers.

She remembers her sins, her mistakes, her losses.

She remembers her mother.

The weight of her life pins her down.

But she gets up, she pulls on her clothes, pulls her hair into a ponytail, and starts her morning workout.

Because she still has so much to do.

But there's always a moment between the land of dreams and the land of the awake.

**A/N: Dedicated to my messed up sleeping pattern…**


	787. 785 Flying

**785. Flying**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 151<p>

His whole situation reminds him of Icarus' story – he wanted to reach the sun, but his plan was doomed to fall and it cost him his life.

Rose is his sun; that blazing orbit he wants to fly to, to touch, to caress, to feel, even though he knows that getting too close will burn him, will melt the wax in his wings and he'll fall.

Because it's wrong, wrong on so many levels, because she is so young and bright and beautiful and forbidden and unreachable and…

That's why he tries to stay away. That's why he tries to keep a distance. That's why he is ready to be her mentor, to push her forward, but do nothing else.

But he can't keep it up forever.

Because he is Icarus and she is his sun, and although he knows that he is destined to fall, he can't stay away forever.

**A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of update yesterday. I really have no excuse, it was completely personal – an impromptu sleepover at my best friend's, involving a lot of retro music, crazy dancing, some TBBT and a bottle of champagne. **


	788. 786 Free

**786. Free**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 116<p>

As strange as it is, the first feeling that fills my body as I board the plane bound for Russia is the feeling of being free.

For the first time in my life, there's nobody standing behind me; nobody to tell me what to do; nobody ready to scold me, to rule me; nobody who relies on me, who is completely vulnerable without me.

This… this is completely my decision. My plan. My mission. Maybe even my death. It's all about me.

It's liberating. Terrifying and liberating and amazing.

Even if the task ahead of me is terrible and horrifying.

But still, it's my decision. My life. Nobody's else.

The plane takes off.

I am free.

**A/N: Having given my index over, I am officially done with this semester :) So here's my little summer resolution: 10K pages to read, 50K words to write until next semester starts. Keep tuned, because I also plan to write little reviews about the books I read :P Until next time!**


	789. 787 Laughter

**787. Laughter**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

Janine is sipping from the cold champagne, the bubbles tickling her tongue, a warm, pleasant buzz already setting in her head and low in her belly.

And she is laughing.

Joyfully, carelessly, without worries, without thinking about her duties and the weight on her shoulders – she is laughing.

And this man – this amazing man, with his colorful style and crinkling eyes, this man of power and money, this fearful man, who's so sweet and kind and amazing to her, treats her like no-one has treated her before, looks at her like no-one has ever looked at her before – this man is laughing with her, mirroring her expression – or does he? Does she look at him with this amount of love? –, and raising his glass to toast.

And all is well.

**A/N: First little book review of my summer reading project is up both on my blog and Tumblr, if you are interested :) (orlissa dot tumblr/blogspot dot com)**


	790. 788 Phone Call

**788. Phone Call**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 142<p>

Alberta opens the third drawer from the top of the filing cabinet, and with slow, deliberate, sad movements, she pulls out the file. Stepping back to her desk she sits down, and with a heavy sigh she opens it, eyes already searching for the line listing the next of kin, unwilling to read any more than necessary.

Because it hurts.

Because she lost one of her best men today, the wound still raw, still painful, and now…

And now she has to call his family to inform them that they have lost a son, a brother.

She sighs, her finger resting next to the phone number on the page, while she reaches for the receiver with her other hand.

The dial tone sounds like a burial march in her ear.

"Mrs Belikova? I'm guardian Petrov. I am sorry to inform you that…"

**A/N: Big thanks to those three people who started following my on Tumblr yesterday! :)**


	791. 789 Electric

**789. Electric**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

Little sparks of electricity dance under her skin as Dimitri's lips slowly trail down on her neck, nipping, licking, sucking at the delicate flesh.

She can't help the throaty moan that escapes her mouth.

Oh, it just doesn't get old. Even after all this time together, every time is just as intense as the first. No – it's even more intense.

Not that it bothers her.

His lips wander down to her breast and she shudders in pleasure.

No, it doesn't bother her at all.

Because this electricity coursing through her veins is the best damn thing she has ever felt.

When he comes up for air, it's her turn; she pushes him down on the bed, and starts kissing him, his lips, hic neck, his chest…

It's his turn to feel the sparks.

**A/N: Okay, you got me – I totally forgot that it was Rose who informed the Belikovs :S Although – shouldn't have somebody from the Academy informed them? Duty and all? Buy… Okay. Let's just call it AU, then :) Also, the second book review from my summer reading project is up on Tumblr :)**


	792. 790 Lightning

**790. Lightning**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 109<p>

Light flashes, and then one, two, three, four… thunder. Close, but not threateningly so.

Just like that night.

"Christian?" Aunt Tasha is standing in the doorway of the living room, one shoulder resting against the doorframe, the robe slipping down from the other shoulder, the contrast between her fair skin and scar even starker in the silvery moonlight.

Christian doesn't even turn around.

"There was a storm… that night, too."

Tasha sighs. Her steps are light on the hardwood floor, like a cat's.

"I know. I remember."

"I was scared."

Her arms sneak around his shaking shoulders.

"I still am," she whispers.

He is not ashamed of his tears.


	793. 791 Raw Sugar

**791. Raw Sugar**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 183<p>

To say that the young Lady Conta – the one who's been educated in France, and who likes to point it out at least once in every ten minutes – is irritating is an understatement. She just goes on and on about healthy dieting (likes she needs dieting), must-see plays in Paris (like Lissa has time for it) and about how important is to keep a tailor who makes you clothes that doesn't look like you bought it in a store.

Is she could have her way, Lissa'd stab her fork into the Lady's hand. Or between her eyes.

The point is that she'd hurt the conceited girl. Bad.

But she can't, because it's all politics and diplomacy and the like, so she only nods and nods and nods at the appropriate times, smiles softly, puts another spoonful of raw sugar into her tea and discretely glances at her watch.

Ninety-six minutes.

Ninety-six more minutes of hell, and then she'll be out of here, up in Rose's apartment, eating chips and drinking coke and making fun of snobby bitches like Lady Conta.

She can't wait.

**A/N: Summer reading project #3 review is up :P Oh, and if you are following my Tumblr – feel free to ask anything. Or you know what? Feel free to ask anything, regardless of whether you read it or not :)**


	794. 792 Invisible

**792. Invisible**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

One of the things that bugs Lissa about being Queen is her Guardians – because now she has a whole bunch of them, all completely by-the-book, always surrounding her, dressed sharply, wearing neutral expressions, not saying a word, just staring into space, while, of course, being completely alert and ready to defend her all the time.

They are simply creepy. Their silence. And the staring. Definitely this silent staring. Their strained attempt of being invisible.

She just can't cope with that – she is used to Rose's chatter, and the easy bantering of her other dhampir friends and this – this is madness.

Thank goodness that, as a Queen, she has access to every Guardian's personal file.

"So, tell me, Guardian Johnson," she says one day out of the blue, when she can't take it anymore, addressing to the Guardian standing opposite of her "what's up with you sister?"

Time to break the ice and make the invisible visible.


	795. 793 Bloodsucking

**793. Bloodsucking**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 167<p>

They are having a fight.

It's not their first, nor their last. They are a couple; couples fight. It's not a big deal.

And still…

Sydney doesn't even sure anymore what sparked the fight. Maybe his laziness; maybe her reluctance. One thing is sure: it escalated quickly. Fifteen minutes in, they are standing in two corners of the room, screaming from the top of their lungs, bringing up every little needle they have pushed into the other over the months.

It's out before she could realize what she is saying.

"You bloodsucking monster!"

Adrian halts. Takes a step back. His face goes slack in bewilderment.

Sydney's heart skips a beat.

"I-I didn't mean it like that, I really didn't, I am sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Save it." Adrian's voice is cold as ice. She has never heard him speak like that. It's terrifying. "A sorry won't make it right." And with that, he walks out.

She collapses against the wall.

She really messed it up this time.


	796. 794 Race

**794. Race**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 181<p>

It is becoming somewhat of a tradition.

Early in the vampire morning, just as the sun sets, they arrive at the bench on the corner of the main building, one by one: Mia first, an early riser herself; Lissa and Christian, always arriving together; Jill, rubbing her eyes; sometimes even Adrian, when he's at Court at the moment and is able to get up at such an ungodly hour.

"Who do you think will come first today?" one of would always say, starting an easy, teasing discussion. Some would say it's Rose, some would say it's Dimitri, both sides bringing up reasons why they think so. Some would bet.

And then, maybe five minutes after the last of them arrived, the two people in question would appear on the corner, already a little short of breath, a little sweaty, running, trying to gain a momentum on the other.

And their friends on the bench would stand up, cheering on them, encouraging them, reminding them that there is money placed on them.

Yes – it is becoming a tradition. A very nice one.

**A/N: It was interesting to see how many of you were upset after yesterday's drabble. Once I finish it on a negative note… Okay, I'll try to resolve it, but I admit, I don't yet know how :P**


	797. 795 Ruins

**795. Ruins**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

Sydney likes ruins.

Ruins speak of past greatness. Power and beauty and sophistication. She can imagine herself standing next to the ruins of a thousand year old Greek temple, gazing up at the broken bodies of the caryatids, at the ruined tympana in awe, see with her inner eye how they must have looked at their prime.

But in her own life – she hates ruins in her own life.

The ruins she leaves behind herself. The ruins she caused with careless words, words she didn't even mean, words that were just out, without her even wanting to say them.

And then she saw that beautiful thing Adrian and she had built, that beautiful thing called love, crumble in front of her eyes, leaving only broken pieces behind that pierced her soul.

But however it hurts now, there is a thing about ruins: they can be rebuilt.

**A/N: Here. I am starting to redeem myself and the Sydrian relationship. But it won't work in one simple drabble :)**


	798. 796 Fireworks

**796. Fireworks**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 118<p>

Just as the pressure almost gets _too much_, just as the friction starts to get _not enough_, just as something starts to uncoil in her belly, threatening to burst…

A loud pop sounds from the outside, and another, and another, accompanied by sudden flashes of light in different colors.

A moment later something snaps and she cries out and falls to Dimitri's chest, stated and spent.

Then another pop resonates outside and a giggle tears up from her throat.

"What's it?" he ask, a smile hiding in his voice.

"Nothing, really," she says, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck. "It's just… fitting."

"The fireworks?"

"The fireworks," she says and kisses him.

Outside, the fireworks continue.


	799. 797 Aloha

**797. Aloha**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 169<p>

A giggle escapes from her lips as she steps into the bedroom she shares with Christian, because the aforementioned male specimen, whom she likes to call the love of her life, is posing in front of the full-length mirror, flexing his muscles, donning a bright colored Hawaiian shirt.

That somehow so clashes with his complexion. And style. And somehow it makes the whole scene even cuter and funnier.

"Hey!" exclaims, realizing that his better half has entered the room. "I-I just…" he seems fazed, but tries to play it cool. "I was just trying on… the shirt… I bought for our trip." He leans against the frame of the mirror, even flipping his hair. "You know? Hawaii and all."

But Lissa isn't really listening. She just picks up her phone, and before Christian could tell her 'don't even think about it', she snaps a picture of him.

"Rose is so gonna love this!"

"What? Liss, sweetheart, you can't be this cruel!"

But she is already out of the room.


	800. 798 Original Sin

**798. Original Sin**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

Alchemists don't follow Christianity in the strictest sense, but they still respect and study the Bible.

And Sydney's father made sure that his middle daughter, his future Alchemist, knew her Bible well – and so Sydney knows everything from the creation of the world till the prophecy that tells about the Apocalypse.

But there is one story that won't leave her mind now: the story of the original sin. The story of how Eve was tempted to eat from the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, of how she did it, and of how she and Adam were driven out of the Garden of Eden afterwards.

She knows, of course, why she can't put this story out of her mind: because she is Eve herself, the Tree of Knowledge is the secrets of the Alchemists, and it's only the matter of time until she is driven out of their world.

And yet… knowing still seems better than living a lie.


	801. 799 Hold Me

**799. Hold Me**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 142<p>

The days following their fight ("_You bloodsucking monster!_") are about seeing whose pride and stubbornness holds longer. They don't speak. They don't reach out. They just suffer in silence, longing for the other.

She breaks first. On the fourth night she just can't bear it any longer. After turning and thrashing around in bed for hours, sleep avoiding her, she gets up, slips on her robe and slippers, exists the room and walks down the corridor, the stairway, down, down to his room. She doesn't knock; she just lets herself in. She doesn't ask for permission or even say a word, she just discards the robe and the slippers and slips under the covers, her body snuggled next to his.

He doesn't protest, doesn't say a word, just pulls her closer and buries his face in her hair.

And all is well.

**A/N: Here you go. I resolved it. I hope you're happy with it :)**


	802. 800 Thrill Me

**800. Thrill Me**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

Janine absolutely hates when he is doing this.

When she goes to him with a completely trivial, or a terribly important, matter to discuss, often on someone else's behalf, expecting him to take the issue at least semi-seriously, semi-professionally, in a way in which she can try to convince herself that he is actually listening to her, actually processing what she is telling him, not only imagining her naked (not that he hasn't all of her already), but no, Ibrahim Mazur is absolutely incapable of doing that; no, he just leans back in his seat, golden earring, colorful scarf, devilish smile and all, opens his arms, and, even before she could say a thing, he breaths:

"Thrill me."

Yes; she absolutely hates it.


	803. 801 Kiss Me

**801. Kiss Me**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

Training – sparring – has been different since… since everything. Since they've been back. Since her name has been cleared. Since everything has changed.

Back at the Academy it used to be… tense. There was pressure – pressure to be better, to be enough and not to give in to their most carnal passions. But now – now it's almost playful.

They kick and punch and turn, and smile all the while, flirting with looks and words and body language, and it's so sexy and hot, she knows they'll continue this training that night, amongst the sheets.

In the end they end up laying on the mat, Dimitri on his back, Rose sprawled on top of him, their lower halves pressed together.

She smiles cheekily.

"Kiss me," she says, because she can.

He smirks back, pushes himself on his elbows, and kisses her.

Because he can.

Things really have changed.


	804. 802 Kill Me

**802. Kill Me**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

"Kill me, please, kill me now," Sydney moans into her hands, her face beetroot-red, hair's a mess, shirt still rumpled. She just wants to dig a hole and bury herself.

And then Adrian has the audacity to chuckle.

She is gonna kill him, too.

"I don't know why you are making such a big deal out of it. It was just –"

"Your father!" Sydney exclaims, voice rising. "Your freaking father caught us with your tongue down my throat and your hand up my blouse – sorry, but in my book, it's a freaking big deal!" She is freaking out. Just a little bit.

And Adrian only smirks.

"Do you have any idea how cute you are when you swear?"

She gives him _the look_.

"You know what? I am going to kill you, and _then_ kill myself. This way I get rid of you and avoid meeting your father again."

"Still cute."


	805. 803 Joker

**803. Joker**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 109<p>

Erik is a good man. A loving father. And he loves his wife. He really does. And yet…

The girl is mesmerizing. Her eyes are like gemstones. Her hair like streams of silk. Her skin like velvet. And her body… her body is beyond words. Those limbs and thin waist and perky breast, hidden under sequins and feathers and glittery tulle…

A glance, a wink, and he feels like he's in love.

He feels like he has a hand full of Jokers.

And then the girl sits in his lap and she kisses him, and he kisses her back, and he knows he's won.

Winners' guilt comes only later.

**A/N: Okay, Zutara Week is here, once again – I have plot sketches for all seven days, one almost fully written, and a Castle one-shot almost done. So… keep tuned :)**


	806. 804 Empathy

**804. Empathy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

Janine Hathaway is not the most empathetic person you'll ever meet.

Most of the time she is serious, calculated, watchful, almost cold. She has neither time nor energy to care much about others' feelings, let alone to try to follow them, live them herself. She guards the body; not the soul – the body is her first priority. That her charge's blood remains in his veins.

And so she trains her body and senses, not her soul.

And most of the time she doesn't mind this.

But now, as her daughter sobs in her arms, her tears drenching the shoulder of her blouse, she feels every ounce of the young girl's pain. She is just as shattered as Rose is.

And no matter how much it hurts, she wouldn't have it any other way.


	807. 805 Tomorrow

**805. Tomorrow**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 175<p>

"Liss, I can't do it. I am going to mess it up so bad, so, so bad, I just…" Rose rants, visibly agitated, and she'd rant into the night, if not for Lissa's strategically placed hand on her mouth.

"Are you quite finished?" Lissa asks when her friends shoulders slump a little, the tension in her muscles lessening. Rose nods, her eyelids fluttering, so Lissa pulls her hand away. "Good." She lets out a sigh. "Now listen to me: essentially nothing is gonna change tomorrow. You'll just get a paper. A damned paper, Rose." She stops for a moment and shakes her head, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. "All you'll have to do tomorrow is smile, look pretty, know your lines and have the time of your life."

A small smile appears on Rose's face as she exhales.

"Thanks. I needed this. But–"

"No buts!" Lissa stops her mid-sentence. "No, off to bed with you – you need your beauty sleep. We can't have you have bags under your eyes on your wedding day!"


	808. 806 Blue

**806. Blue**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 153<p>

When she wakes the next morning – nerves still there, but subdued –, ready to dive into the preparations that are waiting for her – make up, hair, dressing, the whole nine yards –, there's a package waiting for her on the vanity. A small, rectangular box, covered in dark blue velvet, with an ivory envelope sitting on the top.

With slightly trembling hand, she reaches for the envelope first.

_Rose,  
>This jewel was once my mother's, and my grandmother's, and her mother's before that – so it's quite old. I am giving it to you now – so it's new for your. And it's blue.<br>But it's up to you to find something borrowed.  
>I'll be waiting for you before the aisle.<em>

_Abe_

She opens the box next – it holds a sparkling sapphire pendant in silver setting, hanging from a thin chain.

She rubs her eyes.

_Damn it_; here goes her resolution not to cry today.

**A/N: Here; I continued it :P Don't tell me I don't listen to your wishes. **


	809. 807 Parachute

**807. Parachute**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

"Things has become… boring," Adrian muses, his head tilted back, resting on the back of the sofa. Sydney fights back a snort.

Yes, things has calmed down in the last couple of months – the anarchist Moroi cell eliminated, Warriors of the Sun pushed to the sidelines, their relationship out of the closet for so long that the waves have already died down. So, yes – things are calm. Peaceful. But she wouldn't call what they have 'boring'.

"We should make something crazy, just to spice things up," he continues, what makes Sydney raise her head in alarm. "Like bungee jumping. Or parachuting." He sits up straight, manic grin appearing on his face. "Yes, parachuting! That'd be so cool."

Sydney narrows her eyes.

"No."

It's good to know that she is still the dominant in this relationship.

**A/N: Is there somebody who's wildly fangirling over the How to Train Your Dragon 2 teaser trailer and Hiccup's new character design, like me? **


	810. 808 Laser

**808. Laser**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 170<p>

She is dead, so dead. She was stupid for even agreeing on it. She has no training or… or affinity, or whatsoever.

She is so dead.

Lissa creeps along the wall, knees and elbows stiff with tension, clutching the gun to her chest, her breath coming out in little puffs. Her finger is trembling on the trigger. Her heart is beating wildly. She is so ready to bolt at the first creak, at the first little sounds.

She reaches the corner. Closing her eyes for a second and murmuring a quick prayer, she sneaks a peek at the corridor.

There's some movement, maybe about twenty feet from her.

She pulls back behind the wall, clutching her weapon.

Now or never.

She jumps out, eyes closed and fires blindly.

A loud bleeping noise fills the corridor.

Then comes the swearing.

"Damn it, Lissa damn it!" Christian curses, pulling his helmet off. "You killed me, woman!"

Lissa smiles to herself.

Maybe she is not that hopeless laser tag she thought she was.

**A/N: In memorian of the laser tag fight I took part in on my best friend's birthday :P  
>In other news: new Castle story is about to be published (matter of minutes). Zutara Week starts tomorrow – I have the first two stories written, so expect at least those :) Until next time!<strong>


	811. 809 Melbourne

**809. Melbourne**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 217<p>

"He has a nickname for you," Adrian states, although it sounds like an accusation.

Sydney sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose – whoever said that pointlessly jealous boys are cute was an idiot. Or has never met Adrian Ivashkov.

"It comes from a misunderstanding. He finds it amusing that it bothers me. It doesn't mean a thing," she explains for the, seemingly, hundredth time.

"This Troy –"

"Trey…"

"This Trey has a nickname for you."

This is the exact point where she gets enough.

"So now nobody is allowed to have a nickname for me, only you?" she exclaims, her voice rising, which actually makes Adrian take a figurative step back.

"Of course not. Your family can have nicknames for you. Your girl friends can have nicknames for you."

"But no boys, except for you."

"Exactly."

She looks at him, eyes narrowed.

"You don't even have a nickname for me."

"I call you Sage all the time."

"That's my surname – it doesn't count."

"Still, I–" Adrian would go on, but she strategically places her hand on his mouth.

"Come up with a real, affectionate, publicly usable nickname, and then, only then, are you allowed to bring this topic up again." And with that she pecks his cheek and walks out of the room.

Topic closed.

**A/N: Zutara Week is here, and my first submission is already up, if you are interested :)**


	812. 810 Roadrunner

**810. Roadrunner**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

Angeline's eyes are glued to the laptop's screen.

"When does he catch that bird?" she asks, somewhat accusingly, just like that, gaze not moving.

Jill can't help herself – she lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Never," she explains, flopping down on her bed. She lies on her back, hands outstretched above her head. "That's the point of it. No matter how hard he tries, whatever gadget he buys, he'll always end up only hurting himself."

Angeline snorts.

"It doesn't make sense. This way, the story doesn't have a moral, or a happy ending."

Jill covers her eyes with her palms.

"It's just a cartoon. It's just supposed to make you laugh, nothing else."

Angeline shrugs.

"Still stupid." She sighs. "If I made that trap…"

Jill grabs her pillow, puts it on her face and screams into it.


	813. 811 Edge

**811. Edge**

POV: Sonya Karp  
>Word Count: 113<p>

"I can't bear it for much longer. It's getting… harder. Staying calm, normal, sane. There are moments when I… feel like myself. When I am with Mikhail. Or with my flowers. But then something snaps inside of me, and I feel everything, every sorrow and every ounce of pain, and there's darkness everywhere, in every little hidden nook of my mind…

I known it's wrong. I know I should fight it. I should be fighting to be normal, to rein my powers and not to let it rule me, but it's… hard. Impossible.

I am standing on the edge of sanity, and I am slipping.

…I think I am going to do it"


	814. 812 Purple People Eater

**812. Purple People Eater**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 157<p>

There is something oddly pleasant about curling up under a quilt blanket on a cold winter night, watching old, nonsensical movies. The eighties had a peculiar sense of humor.

"A horned, one-eyed, purple monster, who wants to play in a rock'n'roll band…" Rose muses, absentmindedly drawing perfect little circles on Dimitri's thigh. "How… charming."

Dimitri chuckles, his hand caressing her hair, as her head rests on his lap.

"You should see some of the Russian movies from this period. They would weird you out even more."

Rose pushes herself up to sitting position.

"Really?" she asks.

He is about to answer, he is, but then there must be something about the moment, because before he could open his mouth, she there, kissing him, and he is not complaining.

There is something oddly pleasant about making love on the couch, covered by a quilt blanket on a cold winter night, while old, nonsensical movies play in the background.

**A/N: I'll be offline for a couple of days - having a little vacation -, but don't worry! Updates are taken care of, you'll get your daily dose :)**


	815. 813 Brother

**813. Brother**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

Even after all this time together, Rose still sometimes forgets that Dimitri is, first and foremost, before being a Guardian or her partner, her lover, a brother.

But then they visit Baia, and she sees how he interacts with his sisters – how he and Karolina share their concerns for their mother and grandmother; how he teases Sonya mercilessly, until she lashes out and playfully smacks him on the shoulder; how he looks out for Viktoria, always asking about her plans for the evening, with whom she is going out, making sure that that she stays within the line, that she stays safe, no matter how it irritates the girl. How he loves them.

Then she remembers.

And falls in love with him just a little more.

**A/N: Hello, Rose-loves-Dimitri here. Since Orlissa's out of town for a couple of days (as she mentioned in yesterday's drabble), I am uploading them for her :) Hope you enjoyed the drabble :)**


	816. 814 Mystery

**814. Mystery**

**POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<strong>

Rose was reading – not a report, not a magazine article, not a text message, but an actual book. A rare occurrence, but not unheard of.

Still, Lissa had a hard time believing her own eyes.

"You are reading," she pointed out the obvious, eyeing the worn, old-fashioned cover.

Rose peered over the edge of the book, her eyebrows furrowed.

"As you can see."

"_Murder on the Orient Express_…" Lissa mumbled, reading the title. "That's a classic."

Rose only nodded.

"Pretty old, that's for sure."

"It has a tricky ending."

This made Rose close the book and look at her friend, somewhat threateningly.

"If you dare to spoil the ending for me, Heavens help me, I'll hurt you."

Lissa, smiling, raised her hands in surrender.

It was nice to see her friend so invested in a book.

**A/N: Okay, I'll admit: I am a sucker for murder mysteries…**

**A/N (number 2): Rose-loves-Dimitri here, just for clarification, I am just uploading the drabbles. Orlissa wrote them. Have a good day everyone and hope you enjoyed the drabble :)**

**P.S: The first A/N Orlissa wrote.**


	817. 815 Haiku

**815. Haiku**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 124<p>

"I have decided that I am going to write you a poem," Adrian states, completely out of the blue. Sydney, used to his occasional bursts of random strangeness (she has known him for a while, after all), does little more than batting her eyelashes and smirking at him.

"And exactly why do you have such grand plans?"

He merely shrugs.

"Poems are romantic – I can be romantic. And it's time somebody commemorated your beauty," he explains. "So I am gonna write you a poem. A sonnet, I think."

"A sonnet?" she chuckles. "You think you have an attention span long enough for fourteen lines?"

He seems to take it into serious consideration.

"I guess you are right. Sonnet thrashed. You are getting a haiku."


	818. 816 House of Night

**816. House of Night**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 125<p>

Rose eyes the cover of the book skeptically.

"So this book–"

"Series," Lissa corrects her, "Book series. It has ten books – so far."

Rose merely rolls her eyes.

"Okay, so this book series is about vampires," Lissa nods, "who live in a special boarding school," another nod, "and they are battling somebody who they initially considered an ally," nod, "while having teenage drama," nod, "and, in the meantime, they are playing with the elements. And spirit. Kind of." Nod, nod, nod.

"So, what do you say? Do you give it a shot?"

Rose puts the book down, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips.

"Thanks, Liss, but I am gonna pass. My life is enough to live, I don't wanna read about it, too."

**A/N: I'd like to make it clear that I don't think that VA and HoN are alike – quite the opposite. I just pointed out a few similarities in the big picture, and made Rose draw a conclusion based on only that. HoN has been work for me for such a long time – I edited five and translated one of the Hungarian editions – that I can't form an unbiased opinion of it now.**

**A/N (number 2): Hey, Rose-loves-Dimitri here. Orlissa should be back tomorrow, so she'll be the one uploading the drabbles. The above A/N is what Orlissa wrote by the way. Have a good day/night :)**


	819. 817 Lovers

**817. Lovers**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 108<p>

It was becoming… Not enough.

Erik would come, when he could, woo her like he always did, with sweet words and expensive gifts, and the she would sigh and smile, which always lead into kissing and touching and shedding clothes and wrinkling the sheets.

And then, the next morning, he would leave, because he had a family to get back to, work that had to be done… And she would still stay there, waiting and wishing, longing for him. For him to return and make her feel again.

But it wasn't enough.

Because they were lovers – nothing more, nothing less. And it wasn't healthy.

And she wanted more.

**A/N: I am back :) Big thanks to Rose-Loves-Dimitri for holding the fort while I was away :) In other news: I have a new laptop. New op system. We are still fighting. I guess it is winning. **


	820. 818 Spoon

**818. Spoon**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 144<p>

All her life, Sydney somehow never had been able to imagine sleeping with someone. It was just… No. A heavy hand keeping her down, not allowing her to move, somebody hogging the blankets, snoring into her ear so loud she wakes up even from her deepest dream… No. Just no. She was better alone – alone and peaceful in her own bed –, thank you very much.

But then Adrian came along.

He doesn't snore. Huffs, sometimes, and mumbles unintelligible things, but it's more like amusing than annoying. He doesn't hog the blanket, although sometimes gets up in the middle of the night because he's cold, and drapes another blanket over himself. And his hand on her waist is not heavy, but warm, his chest against her back as he spoons her comforting, reassuring.

So… Now she wouldn't be able to imagine sleeping without him.


	821. 819 Mad Hatter

**819. Mad Hatter**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

As Sydney is reading her book, suddenly a package, wrapped up in bright colored paper, topped with a fancy bow, enters her field of vision. Raising her gaze and turning her head to the direction from where the package came from, she finds herself face to face with Adrian, who is currently grinning from ear to ear.

"What's this?" she asks, vacillating between being annoyed and amused.

"A gift," he answers, nudging the package a little bit closer to her. "Happy non-birthday."

She lifts an eyebrow.

"Non-birthday?"

"Yep," he says, the 'p' popping from his lips. "But wait, something's missing…"

And with that he reaches into his bag, pulls out a tattered old top hat from it, and places it on his head ceremoniously.

And with at that moment, Sydney decides: yes, she is rather amused.

**A/N: The funnies thing is that it was my birthday yesterday…**


	822. 820 Frog

**820. Frog**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 183<p>

"I'd do nearly anything if I could go and see a Quidditch match, even if it lasted only a couple of seconds," Mia states, throwing her head back and stuffing a handful of gummy bears into her mouth. I chuckle at her antics and grab the bag of candy before she could consume it all.

It started out as a nice girls' night in, which somehow quickly turned into a full-on geek fest, when Lissa proposed that we should have a _Harry Potter_ marathon. Things escalated at an amazing speed from then, and before we knew it, we were listing the things we would love to do if we lived in the wizarding world.

"I would…" Lissa starts, snatching the gummies from my hand. "I would love to get loose in Honeydukes. Get my hand on a couple of chocolate frogs."

I can't help it – I make a face.

"Honest?" I ask, and she nods. "Then I would love to see your face as you swallow them and they start kicking in your throat."

Mia doesn't say a word, only bursts out laughing.

**A/N: I had a very similar evening – only it involved a game of Harry Potter Cluedo, not movies. But there were gummy bears.**


	823. 821 Barracuda

**821. Barracuda**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 142<p>

Janine doesn't even know why she agreed to this – this thing, this place, this… everything is so not her style. The restaurant is too fancy, the food is too fancy, the waiters are too fancy, the dress she is wearing is way too fancy to her taste, the straps getting on her nerves.

But he is there, munching on his overpriced smoked barracuda (a mighty and kind of scary fish – just like him), his usual fancy suits blending in nicely, and showing her that infuriating smirk of his, and…

So okay, she might know why she agreed to this. And okay, this date is not that bad after all. Only because of Abe.

And yet, she can't wait it to be over. Not really because she _actually_ wants it to be over, not really.

She just wants to rip his clothes off.


	824. 822 Altogether

**822. Altogether**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 122<p>

Stan keeps track.

Since he came to Saint Vlad's, he has taught thirteen classes – four hundred and seven students. Three hundred and seventy-eight have become Guardians, twenty-five have chosen another occupation, four died before finishing the Academy. One hundred and eighty-two have been hired by royals. Sixty-three have died within one year of leaving the Academy. One hundred and thirty two have died altogether. Fifteen have given up being a Guardian, and have left the profession. Five have been injured so badly they have had to give up fighting Strigoi. His students have killed one hundred and seventy-nine Strigoi so far.

The numbers are bad – but they are clear. They never lie. They keep him sane.

Without them, he would be lost.


	825. 823 Gone

**823. Gone**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 182<p>

There is a moment that afternoon during training when time seems to stand still.

They are lying on the mat, faces and necks glistening with sweat, hair disheveled, strands gotten free from both their ponytails, brown orbs getting lost in each other, lips parted slightly, chests heaving. She is on top of him, thighs bracketing his waist, her hands on his chest, pushing him down.

And there is something in his eyes – pride, because he is proud of her, because she has just defeated him, gotten him on his back, using the things he's taught her, and he is proud, so, so proud, and she can see it, but there's something else, too, some kind of deep, terrible longing, and she would swear their lips start a slow journey to the other in that moment, and then…

The dam breaks, and they suddenly remember who they are, where they are – that what they were about to do is forbidden – and they get up from the floor, stumbling and stuttering, the tension already forgotten, forced behind their backs.

And the moment is gone.


	826. 824 Comrade

**824. Comrade**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

People tend to look funny at her when they learn that she and Dimitri are together, and then hear her call him comrade – hear the teasing undertone, see the sarcastic tilt of her mouth. They rarely say a thing, but she can see it in their eyes – like it's a bad thing, like she shouldn't do this, because it's… it's disrespectful, not something she should call the man she claims to love. But they – she and Dimitri – know better.

Because there is love between the word. Because it's them, so them. Because this word has a history. Because others call their lovers overused terms of endearments, but the two of them are unique, so they call each other unique names.

So others can look at her funny, she doesn't care – at least until she has her comrade.


	827. 825 Fallen

**825. Fallen**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

It is… not good. Definitely not good.

Acknowledging that she is beautiful and brave and passionate and has a tremendous amount of talent – even only after a few seconds of knowing her – is one thing. Wanting to help her – to stay out of trouble, to be even better – is one thing.

But waiting for her every morning in the gym with slowly but steadily increasing heart rate, thinking about her almost constantly, imagining things he'd do with her, do to her, wanting to tread his fingers through her shiny hair, fantasizing how her lips would taste… Well, that's a completely different thing. And it's definitely not good.

Because damn it, she is still a child. A student. His student.

Damn it.

But it's already too late.

He has already fallen.

**A/N: Heavily influenced by the recent gift DPOV-scene :)**


	828. 826 Mentor

**826. Mentor**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

Janine researched Dimitri Belikov as soon as she heard the word that the young Russian would mentor her daughter – and, to be honest, she was impressed. Top of his class, highest evaluation, spotless personal record, Guardian of a Zeklos right after graduation, six kills so far. So, yes, she was impressed. She even expressed it, writing an – completely professional and impersonal – e-mail to the young man, telling him how glad she was that he took the training of her daughter into his hands.

And her thankfulness only grew as she got her biweekly reports on Rose's progress. She was quite convinced that Belikov is the best thing that could have happened to Rose.

But then she visited the Academy, met the man and saw the way his eyes lit up whenever he mentioned Rose, and… Well, she wasn't that sure about how great he was anymore.


	829. 827 Mothers

**827. Mothers**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 134<p>

The first time Janine meets Olena Belikova – the Christmas after Lissa's coronation –, the Russian woman, right after being introduced, not even letting her say a word, pulls her into a hug without warning. The embrace is awkward – Olena is considerably taller than her, causing her cheek to be pressed against Olena's shoulder –, and she stiffens for a moment. She is not used to casual physical contact.

But then Olena whispers into her ear, so low only she can hear:

"Thank you so much for your daughter. She makes Dimitri so happy – I couldn't ask anything more for him."

And then Janine relaxes. Her eyes tear up, her arms squeeze the other woman for a moment.

Because although she can't quite put it into words, but she feels the same gratefulness towards Olena.

**A/N: Thank you for the 46K hits for last month! You are the best!**


	830. 828 Tiger

**828. Tiger**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

Their apartment is painfully bare of any childhood memorabilia – Rose not really having any, Dimitri's being home in Russia, packed away a long ago – or anything remotely childish, expect for one little thing: a plush tiger, no longer than a foot, with a bright pink bow around its neck, always mightily looking down at the bedroom from its pedestal on the top of the dresser.

It was a gift for her, from a little Moroi girl Rose was stuck babysitting for an afternoon. The girl's mother was in audience with Lissa, the original sitter went MIA in the last minute, so… yeah. Rose got the girl for the afternoon. And it was… nice. And in the end, the girl gave her the tiger.

She doesn't really talk about the experience anymore, not even when asked. But the tiger stays on the top of the dresser,

**A/N: One of my mum's friends was over yesterday with her two daughters – five and three –, who, unexplainably, love me. I got a plushie from them: two teddy bears standing on a heart-shaped pillow. I can't really decide what is cuter: the girls or the plushie. **


	831. 829 Pi

**829. Pi**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 144<p>

The evilest thing you can do to your best friend, who is bound to you by a psychic link, is telling her that you are going to help your boyfriend with his Math – since he so doesn't get the concept of Pi – and ending up solving a completely different equation, where you take off your clothes and add yourselves together.

And Lissa is doing the exact same thing to me now. And, of course, I am forced to live it through, because whenever I am finally able to banish her from my mind, she is back a moment later with renewed fevor.

(Don't get me wrong: I am happy that she has a satisfying sex life. But still…)

But I am getting back at her, I swear. I don't have the slightest idea of the how yet, but I will.

Oh, revenge is sweet.


	832. 830 Hug

**830. Hug**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 122<p>

The first time Olena meets Janine Hathaway – this petite, redhead woman who gave birth to that girl who makes her son so happy –, she, without much warning, hugs her. Her arms wrap themselves around the Scottish woman's smaller frame, drawing her close, crushing her to her chest.

And then she feels the woman tense up. It's only for a moment, just until Olena whispers her thanks into her ear, but it's there, along with the slight panic in Janine's gaze Olena sees when they pull away.

It saddens her.

Because it tells her that Janine is not used to being hugged. Used to being affectionate. Used to having a family.

But it's okay – Olena can fit one more person into hers.

**A/N: To answer an anon question: you can send in prompts (one word, a phrase, a title of a book/film/song, but not a request of a story) via PM – here, or even on Tumblr (Orlissa), but please, not in reviews! Right now I have about 80-90 prompts left, so there are still a few slots left :)**


	833. 831 Hanger

**831. Hanger**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 175<p>

The dress hanging from the wall of the changing room's wall is mocking me. Honestly – it's literarily mocking me. And calling to me. And scaring me.

Mocking me, because up until a couple of months ago I was so hell-bent on _not_ doing this, at least not for a long time, and yet here I am, stripped down to my underwear, about to put on… this. This dress. That is mocking me.

Calling to me, because god, it's beautiful – all tasteful silk and lace and delicate embroidery, and it's so not me, and maybe that's why I want it. And for other reasons.

And it's scaring me, because it makes everything so… real. Tangible. Because damn it, it's a wedding dress, and I am about to try it on, and this might be the very dress I'll say my vows in, and it'll be for a life, and it's terrifying.

But the most terrifying thing is that I want it. Everything.

I sigh and reach for the rich material.

It's time to face the music.

**A/N: I watch way too much TLC and **_**Say Yes to the Dress**_**. I can't help it – that channel makes a good background noise. **


	834. 832 Moonlight

**832. Moonlight**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 164<p>

During daytime, Sydney is strict, by the book, careful and almost shy. She is always focused at the current task at hand – all work and no play. She thinks twice about everything. She is always worried – about both things that should be worried about and things that shouldn't be. She'd never cross the lines that have been set for her, that she has set for herself.

During daytime, she is boring, too closed up, too guarded – her wall almost too high for him to even try to climb them.

But in the moonlight – in the moonlight, she is completely different.

She is pliant and giddy, free and happy. She cuddles up to him, giggling, hands and lips wandering. She shudders and moans, hair messy, eyes half-open. She forgets her worries. She forgets that they can be detected. She forgets that this all might end one day. She just lives for the moment – with her whole being.

And Adrian won't deny – he likes moonlight-Sydney better.

**A/N: Rose and Dimitri have dominated these drabbles for a little too long in the last few days, so here's some Sydrian for you :) (also, some advice: do not drink, not even a cider, during a heat wave. Kicks you out a lot faster and a lot more efficiently than during normal weather.)**


	835. 833 Fury

**833. Fury**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

It is ridiculous.

Of course, have the dhampirs fight even younger – who cares! Have them give their lives for the Moroi who wouldn't even lift a finger to defend themselves, even though they have the perfect means to fight.

Tasha feels like screaming.

This… this… incompetent, narrow-minded, dumbass lot! If she had her way… if only she had the chance…

But, of course, nobody will listen to her.

Maybe Dimitri–

Another wave of fury flares in her veins to the thought of him. She made him such a perfect proposition. And damn it, she loves him – and yet, he is reluctant. And she knows why, and it infuriates her, so, so much, because the girl's just a child and–

She stops herself. It's no use. She needs a plan. A plan to make things alright. To take care of both of her problems.


	836. 834 Daydream

**834. Daydream**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

Sydney is proud to say that she is above such mundane things as daydreaming. She has always been focused, collected, organized. No place in her mind for imagining never-gonna-happen situations and wondering about… boys. And she has never even had time for such pointless things – her day taken up by Alchemist missions, studying, and whatever else she came across. Much more important things. Sensible things.

So, no daydreaming for her.

At least not before Adrian. But now…

Now a considerable part of her day is taken by recalling how it feels when Adrian kisses her. Remembering the texture of his hand. The glimmer and exact shade of his eyes. And…

She shakes her head.

Now, this is pathetic. Not that she can help it. So she just keeps on daydreaming.

Not that she'll ever admit it.


	837. 835 Late

**835. Late**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 167<p>

Janine was late.

One day in, she shrugged it off. It was nothing. She must have miscalculated it. And anyway, she had a stressful job – it was completely okay to be a day or two late because of the stress, right?

Four days in, she was in denial. It was absolutely impossible that she was pregnant. They were careful, as careful as one can be. And not that they had sex on a too regular basis. She wasn't pregnant, it was something else.

Seven days in, she panicked. She couldn't be pregnant. She was only twenty. People had just started taking her seriously as a Guardian – and she couldn't even work pregnant! And to take out months now… No. She couldn't do it. She wasn't ready for it.

Nine days in, she gave in and bought a test. And one more, just to be sure.

Both turned out to be positive.

Fifty-four days in, she heard her baby's heartbeat for the first time – she was in love.


	838. 836 Horizon

**836. Horizon**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 122<p>

When he was working for Ivan Zeklos, Dimitri's room in his charge's house faced West. Each day as he got up, he got to see as the Sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains far away. It was a spectacular sight – as the peaks throw shadows on the clouds, as the sinking sun painted the air blood red…

But then Ivan died; Dimitri left for America and said goodbye to the horizon he knew.

His window at Saint Vlad's faces North. He sees trees and other buildings from it. It makes him feel… limited. Like a caged animal. He misses the distance and feeling of freedom. But he can deal with it.

Especially when his horizon is filled with a beautiful girl's face.

**A/N: A terrible nice reader alarmed me that one drabbles was uploaded twice by accident – I've corrected the mistake, so drabble 249 Christmas is now the correct file :)**


	839. 837 Eclipse

**837. Eclipse**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 121<p>

Tasha had always considered herself, even with the scars, an attractive woman. Someone to desire. She was intelligent, self-assured, charismatic. And she was hot – slender, but strong. The way she presented herself often made people forget about her scars.

She was used to getting any guy she wanted.

And then there came Rose – young and fresh, passionate and untamed. Initially, Tasha even liked the girl – her spirit, her wit. How she fought for the things she loved and for the things she believed in. They were so alike, Rose and her.

But then they fell for the same man and Rose won. And Tasha was unable to bear that. She was unable to bear to have been eclipsed by a child.

**A/N: Something must have happened yesterday, because… wow. Somehow I got over 3500 pageviews – which is about 1K more than my former record. I don't know what to say, really. I am touched. But here's one thing, a promise: if we cross 50K pageviews this month, I'll get you some surprise :)**


	840. 838 Stark

**838. Stark**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 151<p>

"I can't believe you have never seen this movie."

Sydney merely shrugs.

"I have never been one for mainstream movies, and you know that."

"Let me repeat it: I can't believe you have never seen this movie." Adrian even shakes his head a little, his eyes downcast. "I thought girls dig Robert Downey Jr."

Sydney blinks at him.

"Will you think less of me if I say that I don't even know who you are talking about?"

He turns his eyes at her, his gaze unmoving.

"You don't know who Robert Downey Jr. is?" She shakes her head, looking almost shy. "And what about Tony Stark?" Another headshake. "Iron Man?" One more.

Adrian, at his patience's end, throws a cushion against the back of the sofa.

"Okay, that's the last straw! Stay here – I'll be back in a moment with the DVD. And I promise you – you are gonna love this."

**A/N: I really don't know what's happening – yesterday broke record once again, with almost 4K pageviews. Thank you! (As for the drabble/prompt: I don't watch GoT, and although I love Iron Man, I think that Robert Downey Jr's greatest role so far is Charlie Chaplin in **_**Chaplin**_**. Sucky make-up, great movie.)**


	841. 839 Hollywood

**839. Hollywood **

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 260<p>

Sometimes, lazy Sundays are the worst – when you can do nothing but lie on the couch with your legs thrown over its back and your head hanging upside down. (Well, technically there is one thing that you could be doing, but let's say you have already done that two or three times that day, and you kind of have your limits.) These are the times when the craziest ideas come.

"How cool it would be if they made a movie about us – not even about 'us' us, but about Moroi and dhampires in general…" Rose muses, her head almost touching the floor.

"Since it wouldn't work without unveiling our existence, I doubt it's going to happen," Dimitri murmurs from where he is lying on the floor on his back, one hand lazily playing with one of Rose's locks.

The girl snorts.

"I am not saying that it should happen, only that it would be a total blockbuster," she shrugs. "It could be about Arthur Schoenberg – he sure had enough life story to fill a movie. And he could be played by… let's say Bruce Willis."

"Don't you think Willis would be a little too brute for him?"

"Then what about… I don't know. Mel Gibson?" Dimitri snorts out a laugh, causing Rose to throw a cushion at him. "Okay, then come up with a better one! And I thought that you could make a cameo, too…"

"And who would play me?"

Rose pauses for a moment, deep in thought.

"You, only you. There's no actor hot enough to substitute you."

**A/N: This prompt, just as the stills came out… :D  
>Kitty: GoT – Game of Thrones<br>Pall: Jeez, I don't think that it was consciously on my mind, but unconsciously? I am pretty sure that this is what happened :D**


	842. 840 Die and Come Back

**840. Die and Come Back**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 140<p>

After everything is over and taken care of, Lissa and Adrian sit her down and explain her everything.

What they tell her stuns her.

She died – at the hands of her attackers, she died. And then she came back, Adrian brought her back.

She just shakes her head, her eyes shut, tears leaking. No, she didn't die – she was wounded, yes, and she lost consciousness, and she can believe that Adrian healed her, but no, she didn't die, she couldn't have died, it's impossible…

It takes some time to accept the truth. To realize how it is going to change her life. What a bond she has now with Adrian.

She is still scared. Still stunned. But she also sees now what it means.

It means that she got another chance.

And she has to make the most of it.

**A/N: Are you going crazy about the trailer already, in advance? :P**


	843. 841 Reunion

**841. Reunion**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

They expect their first meeting after the "Palm Springs Mission" to be awkward. After all, things were tense between them before, and they fear that the recent changes in their lives will just make them tenser.

After all, Adrian, in the meantime, has fallen for an Alchemist, one of _her_ friends, nonetheless. Has gotten himself into a forbidden love much like the one she left him for.

And Rose – her life is still crazy, and her love for Dimitri is even stronger than before, and now, damn it, now they are dancing around the idea of marriage of all things, and she just can't believe herself.

And yet, when they meet, all their fears and worries disappear and they welcome each other like old friends.

After all, that's what they are.

**A/N: Everybody nicely emotionally dead after the trailer? :)**


	844. 842 High

**842. High**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

A well-planned date, a not so planned ambush by Veronica's henchmen and a dislocated shoulder on Sydney's part – not an evening Adrian would call successful.

Although, he has to admit: Sydney, high on painkillers, is pretty amusing.

"I like your eyes…" she slurs, left arm in a sling. "They are very… green. Like grass. I like grass. I like to lie in grass – it's soooo soft…" She is incoherent, unable to hold eye contact. He guesses that she won't even remember this.

And that makes him a little brave.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and clicks on the camera.

"So like grass? Tell me more about it."

She is so going to kill him once she is back to normal, but right now, he doesn't care – she is just too damn adorable now to let the opportunity slide.


	845. 843 Summer Plan

**843. Summer Plan**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 113<p>

Abe is slowly getting on Janine's nerves.

For the last two or three weeks, he has been sending her these… e-mails. Pictures of tropical resorts. Links to the websites of various high-end hotels. Articles on different activities – both for Moroi and humans – in the said resorts (like romantic nighttime picnics. Honestly.) Asking for her opinion where they – not he, they – should spend the summer.

She keeps telling him that there is no way that she is spending the summer with him. He doesn't grace her with a reaction – only another link or picture or idea.

And it is slowly getting on her nerves.

Mostly because she knows she won't resist him much longer.

**A/N: To Hadley and, really, everybody: it's completely okay to call me out on grammatical mistakes, typos, factual errors, etc. I am not perfect – hell, I am not even a native speaker –; I make mistakes. And if you point out my mistakes, I'll correct them and learn from them :)**


	846. 844 Admirers

**844. Admirers**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 147<p>

Rose finds jealous Dimitri – pointlessly jealous Dimitri, to be exact – completely irresistible and adorable. And amusing.

It all started with an extravagant bouquet of red roses – yes, that cliché – appearing on her desk at the headquarters. No name on the card, only an even more cliché message from this 'secret admirer' who found her 'breathtakingly beautiful' and 'goddess-like'.

To be honest, she found it more annoying than flattering (after all, she was pretty sure it was some pretentious rich Moroi guy, who wanted to bed her).

But Dimitri, sweet, loving Dimitri, was going crazy in his own, wordless way. He was fuming, distressed by the fact that a man, other than himself, was making moves on his girl – so he was even more attentive towards her than usual.

And she loved it – so she didn't see any harm in faking a little enthusiasm towards her secret admirer.


	847. 845 Hilarious

**845. Hilarious**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

Hans knows something is up as soon as he steps into the building that morning. There's something in the air, ha can almost smell it.

The people, his people, are acting, for the lack of better word, weird. They keep avoiding looking into his eyes. Some of them smile or smirk, but drop it as soon as he turns his eyes on them. And there is snickering. And hushed conversation. And it's unnerving.

Somehow the whole headquarters feel like a bomb that is about to explode.

And, as it turns out, he is not far from the truth – because as soon as the door of his office closes behind him, he can hear the laughter tearing free from the Guardians' throats on the other side of the wall.

He is not sure he wants to know.


	848. 846 Ginger

**846. Ginger**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

For a long time Janine refused to talk to Ibrahim – or even acknowledge his existence – because he had the nerve to call her Ginger – something that had always pissed her off.

So what if she had reddish hair? She wasn't alone with this trait on the planet. And her hair color did not mean that she didn't have a soul. Or that she ate other people's souls. It was just a hair color, damn it, nothing to be joked about. She really wanted the people around her to learn this.

One day she even called Ibrahim out on this one, told him straight away that she did not appreciate the nickname. To her utter surprise, he looked completely taken aback by her outburst.

"I didn't mean to indicate your hair color," he told her, "I was merely trying to liken you to Ginger Rogers. I meant it as a compliment."

And then it was Janine's turn to be taken aback.


	849. 847 Comedy Central

**847. Comedy Central**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 153<p>

They were at it again. With their hidden smiles and suppressed laughter. With the tension of an about-to-go-off bomb, that was slowly driving Hans crazy. He couldn't even concentrate on his work, because when he was finally able clear his mind and get down to business, somebody sure as hell let out a chuckle or a giggle on the other side of the door, and these walls were terribly thin.

He snapped on the third day, about an hour after lunch break.

He stormed out of his office (nearly tearing down his own door in the process), and knob still in hand, he shouted:

"It's not the freaking Comedy Central, people!"

For a moment, everybody stopped and became completely still, gazes fixed on Hans. Even the buzz of the electricity running in the cables could be heard.

And then suddenly, everybody started laughing again.

Hans couldn't help it – he cracked a smile, too.


	850. 848 Singing in the Rain

**848. Singing in the Rain**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 124<p>

Sydney has always hated rain – okay, hated is a little bit too harsh of a word; she felt strongly against it. Of course, with her logical mind, she knows that rain is needed, that it's a good thing, but still: rain halts things, destroys things, it's highly annoying when you get drenched in a downpour, and it makes her hair fizzy. No matter how much spray she puts on it.

But right now, as they – Adrian and she – are leaving the restaurant after their first official date, with her stomach pleasantly full and the corners of her mouth are almost sore from all the smiling, the rain begins to fall, and she doesn't mind, not at all.

No, she feels like singing and dancing.

**A/N: Sorry for being so silent in the last couple of days – a spent a few days at a friend's, and knowing it would be kind of rude to write there, I pre-wrote all the drabbles due during my stay, only uploaded them from there. Now, I am going to answer your questions and all, I promise :) (Although I don't know what was so funny – I mean, sometimes the fun is in the not knowing, right? :P)**


	851. 849 Time Travel

**849. Time Travel**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

"Don't you wish sometimes that you could go back in time?" Rose murmurs, her lips almost touching the delicate skin of Dimitri's neck. "That you could change things?"

His chest vibrates as he chuckles.

"Things like breaking someone's nose? Talking back to Stan? Or making a scene in front of all royals?"

She punches his chest playfully, a lovesick smile gracing her lips.

"No," she purrs, "I am thinking more along the lines of the first time we met. I would do that differently now. For example, I wouldn't attack you now."

"As I remember, you didn't exactly attack me the first time around."

"But the intent was there!" she argues, and he humors her.

"Okay, so what would you do now if you could relive that moment?"

"I'd kiss you," she states, making him smile.

"Although I can't provide you a time machine right now… Care to demonstrate?"

"Sure, why not?" And she leans closer.


	852. 850 Japan

**850. Japan**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 163<p>

"I think I am getting a tattoo – I mean, seriously. Not that skeleton-riding-a-bike-in-flames stuff," Adrian states, his voice almost serious for a change, and she kind of wants to take him seriously, but it's just so damn difficult.

"Are you getting jealous? I mean I have my lily, Rose has her Marks… Time to get your own?" And she smirks. She hates it, but she smirks. He brings it out of her.

He grimaces, but she can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Not exactly. I was thinking more along the lines of…" he reaches for his laptop, opens the lid, types in something, then turns it towards her. "…This."

Sydney's eyes go wide.

"You want to have this image tattooed on your back?"

"Not exactly this, but yeah, something like it."

She raises her eyebrows at him.

"You are aware that it's a yakuza tattoo?"

"Yes, and?"

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"You are incorrigible."

**A/N: I have always been more interested in China than in Japan; I don't read manga. Other than childish ones, broadcasted way before I was aware of the term 'anime', it's been forever since I watched an anime (and it was only one series – Death Note). But there was this doc on yakuza on NatGeo tonight, so… Here you go :)**


	853. 851 Birth Certificate

**851. Birth Certificate**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 161<p>

This is borderline… ridiculous.

Because it shouldn't be hard – at least not this hard – to name your daughter, right?

And yet Lissa sits there, the tip of her pen poised above the form she was supposed to fill in about ten minutes ago. Only, she really has no idea what to write into the name section.

The funniest thing is that she and Christian already agreed on what to name their children, years ago. Only that was, well, years ago, before she was put on the throne, and now…

People are betting on the name. Some royals are softly urging her to name the baby Alexandra. Others want the infant to bear the name of Lissa's predecessor – Tatiana. The people hope that she'll name her after her grandmother – Rhea.

She feels like as if her head was about to explode. There's no way to make anybody happy.

So she shakes her head and writes in the name they chose years ago.


	854. 852 Space Invaders

**852. Space Invaders**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

Out of all the places they could have met, could have started their relationship – they both lived on campus, she a teacher, he a Guardian, after all –, their first real conversation took place at an arcade near the Academy.

They were enjoying a nice evening off, relaxing amongst the bright colors and pinging sounds of the video games. Mikhail was deep into a game of Space Invaders – he doesn't know why, he has always been into that game, liked its simplicity – when Sonya came up behind him. They recognized each other, of course they did. So she said hi. She started talking. She asked about the game. She was intrigued. Soon, she had her hand on his bicep, looking at the screen over his shoulder.

He lost. Pretty quickly.

He didn't care.

**A/N: As for yesterday's drabble and the name of Lissa's baby: what would **_**you**_** name her? :P**


	855. 853 Green-Eyed Monster

**853. Green-Eyed Monster**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

Dimitri is jealous, of course he is jealous. Not as much as he was when Ivashkov was after her, flaunting his money and his charms, but he is still jealous.

Because an unknown guy sending flowers – beautiful bouquets of flowers – to his girlfriend is more than enough of a reason to be jealous.

So, yes, it upsets him. Yes, it's petty, and might be even childish, but the green-eyed monster still raises its ugly head within him. He just can't let it go on – let the bouquets pile – without doing something.

So he changes his tactics. He loosens his strict PDA rules. He almost waits on her. Paying attention to her every little need. He becomes an even more attentive lover.

It works – in a way.

The flowers are still coming. The guy is still unknown. It still unnerves him. But he can tell that Rose is actually enjoying the way it makes him act.

Who knew that she would find his little jealousy this attractive?


	856. 854 Atlantis

**854. Atlantis**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 151<p>

"Sydney, are you crying?"

"No."

"But your eyes seem a little teary."

"Must be the draft."

Adrian doesn't say a word, only looks at her, with that half-annoying, half-amazing, inquiring gaze of his, the gaze that tells her he knows she is lying. She resists for a while, but she is not invincible. She holds the cushion she pulled into her lap around the beginning of the movie a little tighter and gives in.

"Okay, so I might have teared up a little, but just…" out of words, she points at the TV screen. "She lost her mother as a little kid, and now she has her old bracelet, so she met her in the crystal, and it's so bittersweet and tragic, just after she lost her father, and… how can you stand it without sobbing?"

He chuckles and kisses the top of her head.

"I knew you'd like this movie."

**A/N: I have always loved Disney's Atlantis. I even remember acting out a scene from it with a friend when I was in fourth grade. That was… a long time ago. A long, long time. Funny thing is, I only found out recently that Joss Whedon did some writing in the script :) I'm pretty sure that Audrey is his creation.**


	857. 855 Middle Earth

**855. Middle Earth**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 208<p>

Okay, so Sydney finding the ring by accident wasn't really amongst his plans.

"It's not what you think!" he tries to do as much damage control as he can as he watches her standing in the middle of the small room he has named his workshop, a small, velvet box pinched between her thumb and forefinger, the lid open, the light catching on the diamond set on the white gold band. She looks back, her gaze shocked and expectant, apparently waiting for his explanation. He takes a deep breath. "Okay, so it might not look like it, but it's The One Ring. Here, I said it. A wizard came by last night, and asked me to take it to Mount Doom ASAP, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, so I hid it until you came over, so Sauron's spies wouldn't find it, but apparently, I didn't count on your genius. But now you've found it, so you are in it, too. You might as well accompany me to Mount Doom now," he shrugs, trying to play nonchalant.

And then, to his utter surprise, she lets out a full, honest, honey-dipped laugh.

"It's nice to know that you are already likening marriage to a near-suicidal mission."

**A/N: Here comes a confession: I've never read LotR. I tried, twice, but it just couldn't hold my interest. I saw Fellowship of the Ring years ago, and bits and pieces of the other two movies. I went to see The Hobbit with a friend, in 3D nonetheless, and it was nice, but – that's it. It was nice. Not amazingly breathtaking for me, only nice. So I am really not adept in this fandom, so feel free to point out my terrible mistakes rooting in my ignorance :)**


	858. 856 Mirror, Mirror

**856. Mirror, Mirror**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 151<p>

It's stupid. And petty. And vain. But I can't help it.

I have always been proud of my body. Have had no body image issues – had a clear picture of myself. Have known that men found me attractive, desirable. It made me confident, cocky, even.

But now, standing in front of the mirror, wearing only my underwear, and I can't see that girl anymore.

Oh, the curves are still there. The swell of the breasts. The dark hue of the skin. The long, tantalizing line of the limbs. But so are there the scars.

Puckered, angry spots and lines – the entry wound of the bullet; the long scar of the incision; the place of the chest tube. They are all there.

Rationally I know that they are nothing. That they don't matter. That the one person that matters still finds me beautiful.

But I still can't make peace with my reflection.


	859. 857 Classics

**857. Classics**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 101<p>

To be completely honest, Lissa doesn't really mind the compulsory readings for Lit.

To be completely honest, she likes to imagine Christian in different roles while reading: Christian as Romeo, living and dying for love; Christian as Mr. Darcy, proud but affectionate; Christian as Pip, risking everything to help those in need; Christian as Gulliver, making sense of the senseless; Christian as Heathcliff… No, not brute, broken Heathcliff; Christian as Edgar, sweet, caring, gentle Edgar. Christian as Jim Hawkins, sailing off to an adventure.

To be completely honest, Lissa absolutely loves the compulsory readings for Lit.

(Oh, the power of imagination!)

**A/N: I got an anon review yesterday, which wasn't even really review, as it had nothing to do with this story. I am not publishing the review, but broadcasting the message, because it is about a good cause, and I guess it reaches more people this way: Hypable is hosting a book ships competition – "Battleships – Book" –; currently, we are in the last round, with Rose/Dimitri battling against Edward/Bella, with the latter currently on top. Please, vote for our dhampir couple!**

**As for today's drabble: I have no idea about what is on the reading list in US high schools – most of the books in this drabble are ones I had to read for my classes. Internet hugs and cookies for those who can name all :)**


	860. 858 Adaptations

**858. Adaptations**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 233<p>

It's long, long years later, when Lissa's grandchildren are grown men and women with families on their own, when Rose and Dimitri and so many of her friends are no more than old, bittersweet memories, when her hair had gone white long ago and her eyes had lost their shine, that a producer seek her audience. She agrees to see him.

He is young, annoyingly so, with so much ahead of him. And there's a twinkle in his eyes – she knows that twinkle; it tells of big dreams.

He wants to make a movie of her, of the story of how she got on the throne. He wants to show her struggles, her fights, her everything. He goes on and on about it, talking animatedly, wanting to know what she thinks about it.

She turns him down.

He wants to make a movie about _her_, but she knows she wasn't alone in this, so she tells him no.

Then, that night, with her fragile, age-worn hands, she picks up the faded picture residing on her nightstand – the picture of them: she, Christian, Rose, Dimitri, Mia, Adrian, Eddie, Jill, Sydney… Her friends, taken such a long time ago. She sighs, shedding a tear.

She calls the producer back the next day. He can make his movie, she'll even fund it. But it can't be about _her_, as it's not really her story.

It's _theirs_.

**A/N: I quick announcement, then I'll leave you alone to process this drabble: we have closed August with over 58K pageviews, which is, unbelievably, 12K more than last month's! Thank you very much! You guys are the greatest!**


	861. 859 Purple Shirt

**859. Purple Shirt**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Adrian tires not to stare at her – at her chest – but it's in vain.

Because… wow.

He is not used to Sydney wearing bright colored clothes to begin with. Let alone revealing ones. She is more like beige and buttoned-up-to-the-neck kind of girl. But this… this miracle, this wonderful piece of fabric is… wow.

Smooth silk in a deep, vibrant shade of purple. Plunging neckline – if it was any lower, he could see her bra. Neat, little bow in the back.

Whoever designed this shirt deserves an award. One he'll hand over personally, as soon as…

"Adrian, are you even listening to me?"

He shakes his head a little. Sydney is looking at him, her eyes expectant. Oh, so he should say something.

The only problem is – he has no idea what. He is too preoccupied by this shirt, the color, the way it contrasts her skin, as the hue changes depending on the curves underneath, and…

Yeah. He is a goner.

**A/N: Inspired by an actual blouse I own.**


	862. 860 Obsidian

**860. Obsidian**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

Adrian has this old brooch, hidden deeply under cufflinks and heavy rings and other precious knick-knacks. It's not exactly fashionable or let alone pretty – the silver is tarnished a little, the polished obsidian in the middle is heavy, dark. It's not even that expensive.

But it was hers – Aunt Tatiana's. He confiscated the brooch as a child, liking the way the light bounced off of the surface. Aunt Tatiana smiled at his awe-struck face and told him to keep the jewel. Now it's one of the very few things he has left from her.

It's not pretty. Or valuable. Or meant to be worn by a young woman. But it means so much to him.

That's why he is giving it to Sydney.

**A/N: I skipped a prompt – softball –, because I am completely dumb when it comes to sports and because it's not even played where I live. I hope you'll forgive me. **


	863. 861 Teddy Bear

**861. Teddy Bear**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

Things are still tough, even now, two years after being crowned. Lissa starts to think that they'll never even get easier – but she is ready to accept that, and fight every day for her people, as long as she has her friends – her family – with her.

But when they are away it's even harder to get through the day. Especially when Christian is away; when he has to leave for a few days for business or else, and she wakes up alone in the too big bed, and has nobody to kiss her good morning, and has nobody to share the day's first cup of coffee with.

But thank God, Christian is aware of how his absence wears her down, and has a whole array of little tricks and gestures up in his sleeve to brighten her day, even when he is miles and worlds away.

Like a huge, fluffy teddy bear with a ribbon around its neck, lying in his place in their bed, waiting for Lissa to wake up, ready to make her smile.


	864. 862 Hula Skirt

**862. Hula Skirt**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

Christian should know by now not to bet against Rose Hathaway.

Their – just the four of them, two Moroi and two dhampirs; two couples – trip to Hawaii started out as a real delight. Clear, warm nights, heavenly ocean, beautiful scenery and delicious food. It was a treat to their tired minds and souls.

Until relaxing turned into boredom (no Guardian is used to this much lying around), and everybody knows (or at least everybody _should_ know) that "I am bored" is the most dangerous sentence in the world. Long story short, the bet was made – nobody knows what was it about exactly, only that it included a handful of locals, a little too much alcohol and the native language of the island.

Oh, and they know that Christian lost – and as the loser, he was obliged to carry out his punishment: to perform a dance while sporting the traditional hula skirt and coconut shell outfit. (According to general consensus, he looked hilarious. Christian didn't think so.)

The moral of the story? Never bet against Rose Hathaway.


	865. 863 For Never Was a Story of More Woe

**863. For Never Was a Story of More Woe**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 201<p>

Adrian is trying. He is trying very hard. Honestly. But he is still very close to falling asleep.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave it to Sydney to choose the venue of their date – he should have known that she would choose something like this. Shakespeare in the park. Romeo and Juliet, a.k.a. the cheesiest love story ever written (according to his humble opinion). And to top it all, she is not even listening to the play – no, she has a copy of the of it open in her lap, and she is reading it.

He sighs. Groans, more like it.

This has to end now.

Without warning, he snatches the book from her lap – she lets out a little startled noise at this –, tosses it over his shoulder – a painful yelp indicates that he hit somebody –, and with one arm, he draws her against his side. She tenses for a moment, but then her muscles relax and she snuggles even closer to him, letting out a little, content sigh.

"You know what?" she whispers after a few minutes, "It's even better this way."

He doesn't know whether to smile or roll his eyes.

**A/N: The actual prompt was "never was there a tale of more woe", but upon googling it I found the actual R&J quote and changed/corrected it. I hope it's okay. **


	866. 864 Mockery

**864. Mockery**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 154<p>

Growing up at Court, Mia got used to being mocked – she was that little girl with the servant parents, the girl who wore secondhand clothes, the girl who wanted to be friends with the royal kids. They laughed at her and called her names. She was little and it hurt.

But she learnt to live with it. She held her head high, stood tall and worked hard to be better, to look better, to act better. She learnt how to be like a royal.

By the time she got to the Academy, she was over the mockery. She was over getting it to her heart. She was bigger than that. Better than that. She didn't let herself to show her vulnerabilities to others.

There was only one problem with that – she forgot that there were other things in life. That there were other ways. She only knew one way to fight fire – with fire.


	867. 865 Byzantinum

**865. Byzantinum**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 210<p>

The first time Sonya visits the Academy after her return to her old self is like a nightmare that breaks her heart. Everything is the same – the same buildings, the same teachers, the same scenery –, but different at the same time. The air feels different, the atmosphere is different, everything is a little darker, a little more menacing.

Her old rooms have been given to someone else, of course. Her belongings have been moved, given away. Even the photos of her with her old students have been taken off the walls. As if even her spirit has been banished from this place.

And that little garden, that tiny patch of dirt she loved oh so much and spent so much time working on, always planting new flowers – now it's nothing more than overgrown weed.

She is on the verge of crying looking down at the green at her feet.

But then there it is – in the corner of the patch, there's a spot of purple. Leaning closer, she can see the flower now – a weak, little byzantinum. She even remembers plating it maybe a week before she killed and turned, and that was such a long time ago, and the flower still lives.

Maybe not all hope is lost.


	868. 866 Flash Drive

**866. Flash Drive**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

Dimitri stares at the small, bright red flash drive pinched between his fingers. At the flash drive containing all his crimes.

All he did during those months spent as a Strigoi is a kind of a jumbled, foggy mess of a memory. Some parts are clear, others are not. Things that didn't feels too important then – sucking another nameless girl dry, snapping the neck of a security guard who stood in his way – are faded. Others – taking Rose, offering her immortality, fighting her, his hunger for power – are clear as if they happened yesterday.

But it's not enough. He has to know. He has to know exactly what happened, what he did. How many lives he ended, how many families he destroyed.

It's going to hurt like hell, he knows. It will tear the barely healed wounds on his soul up, but he still has to do it. He must know.

Otherwise, he'll never find peace.

He slides the flash drive into the USB port.


	869. 867 Rugby

**867. Rugby**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

Sydney watched the screen, well, not exactly disgusted, but most definitely repulsed, as one player sporting a green shirt, grabbed another in blue by his upper thigh and pushed him to the ground, the ball falling from the blue one's hands. She winced as they hit the ground – that must have hurt.

"What a brute, pointless sport," she observed quietly. Next to her, Adrian nodded enthusiastically.

"I know, isn't it awesome?" he said, not even turning to her, eyes still glued to the screen, knees bobbing up and down. Honestly, like a child on Christmas morning.

Sydney let out a frustrated sigh.

"Just for this, you are taking me to the opera next week."

"Sure, whatever you – look at that! What a move!"

She didn't care if he didn't have a slightest idea what he'd just agreed to, she was still going to make him stuck to his word. Tooth for tooth, high-end entertainment for rugby.

**A/N: My earlier statement that I am completely clueless about 90% of all sports still stands. Also, I don't know much about opera, either; I prefer musicals, operettas and comedies. **


	870. 868 Be the Leaf

**868. Be the Leaf**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 256<p>

Some very smart – or at least they claim to be smart – people say that meditation helps. By clearing the mind and the soul by controlled breathing and throwing away harmful thoughts, darkness can be kept at bay. Or so they say.

Lissa believes them, or at least she is desperate enough to try – she has no desire to start taking antidepressants again, and now she doesn't even have me anymore to help her out, so she is grasping at straws. And I am supporting and helping her however I can.

Although, in retrospect, maybe I should have drawn the line at joining her meditation sessions. (True, she did have a point – a little introspection wouldn't hurt to help me with my temper.)

But let me tell you a big secret: meditation sucks. It's boring. You have to sit in an impossible pose. You can't talk. Can't move. Can't even take a breath too deep. And, as it was some kind of universal law, you nose start itching, without fail, every time, five minutes into the session. And they last an hour.

But I am trying. I really am. I do keep trying to imagine myself as a leaf being swept away by the wind, doing summersaults in the air, riding it, letting it to take me away, draining the tension…

Okay, it might not be helping my temper – it kind of pisses me of –, but it sure makes me a little sleepy…

I wonder if I could get away with falling asleep for a while.

**A/N: With the Legend of Korra season (book) premier on the corner, I guess this drabble is right on time :)**


	871. 869 Twilight

**869. Twilight**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 260<p>

"You have never read _Twilight_." The sentence comes out sounding more like an accusation than a statement. Sydney simply shrugs.

"When I have time to read, I usually aim for higher literature."

"You have never read _Twilight_," Adrian echoes, still in mock-shock.

"Is that a problem?"

"No, it's just you…" he waves his hands in front of her, outlining her figure, somehow trying to make a point. "You are a nineteen year old girl. I've never met a girl your age who hasn't read it. Even Rose has read it."

She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Why is this book so important, anyway?"

He stands a little taller, smirk appearing on his face, then in the next moment he lets his shoulders fall forward once again – as if he didn't know whether to be proud of himself or look as small as he can.

"You know what a chick magnet that book is? Perfect conversation starter. 'Are you joking? _New Moon_ is my favorite book, too!'" He stops suddenly and swallows. "Not that I used this technique in months. Just to make things clear."

Sydney crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"You read a book just so you could have one more way to flirt with girls."

"Four. I read the whole series."

The muscles in her arms tighten, her eyebrows rise even higher, but he can see the hint of smile hiding in the corner of her mouth.

"I honestly have no idea whether I should be amused or pissed off right now."

"I vote for amused."

**A/N: Internet hugs and cookies for those who spot the movie reference in this drabble :P**


	872. 870 Gym

**870. Gym**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

There was a time when Dimitri absolutely loved the Guardians' gym at Court – the one at the Academy was okay, well-equipped and all, but still nothing to the Court's stark white walls and modern chrome weights and machines. But now… now he is not that fond of it.

Because at the Academy the gym was frequented by diligent upperclassmen – no competition – and other senior Guardians – to whom students were completely off limits. But at Court – at Court, there are men. Men to whom everybody is game. Men, who are, mostly, rather… starved. Men who are not ashamed to openly leer at his girlfriend as she is lifting weights and hitting dummies and… well, being all hot and sexy and breathtaking.

So, no – he doesn't like the Court's gym that much anymore.


	873. 871 Tennis

**871. Tennis**

POV: third Person  
>Word Count: 161<p>

Sydney tightens her grip, swings the racket, moves to her left and…

The ball shots past her, hitting the ground about five feet behind her. She curses. She rarely curses, but by now she is frustrated and has to let out the steam somehow.

Adrian, on the other side of the net, lets out an amused chuckle. She straightens up, angrily blows a lock of hair out of her eyes and gives him _the look_. Adrian goes silent in an instant.

"It's just…" he starts, running a hand through his hair. "I am used to seeing you ace everything you try without breaking a sweat, and now – now you can't even hit that damned ball."

She won't lose her temper. She won't. So she just shakes herself, widens her stance, and calls out, "Okay. Let's try again!"

Adrian smirks, picks up another ball and raises it.

"See? This stubborn streak is more familiar," he says and hits the ball.

She misses.

**A/N: Please, send me some creative energies that will help me fight off my procrastination. My creative writing classes have started, and I have to pen down two short stories until Tuesday. I haven't written a word yet. (Also, I have a half-done Castle one-shot in the works, too…)**


	874. 872 Harry Potter

**872. Harry Potter**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 171<p>

Dimitri has never seen the Harry Potter movies. He hasn't read the books, either, but Rose, not being a bookworm herself, isn't too concerned about this fact. But the films – the films are mandatory. The whole story is the profane Bible of their generation, and it's a real blasphemy not to be aware of the story.

So she prompts a movie marathon – a full free weekend (a rare occurrence) and all five movies. Completely doable, and even Dimitri's game. So, on that cloudy Saturday morning she sticks the DVD into the player – soon, the opening notes of the theme music fill the room.

Dimitri is, from the first moment, enthralled. And she's glad. Thrilled that he likes what she likes. Only… she loses interest in the film soon enough. She's seen it enough times, and Dimitri's there, his hot, solid body against hers, his scent filling her nose…

It doesn't take long for her hands to starts their little journey. And from then no, nobody really plays attention to the movie.

**A/N: Five movies – no, it's not a typo. Timeline wise, Rose graduated in 2008, so let's say this drabble takes place in early 2009 – that gives them enough time to fall into a rhythm, but not enough to be completely over with little things like watching each other's favorite movies. And in early 2009 only five HP movies had been out. **


	875. 873 Watch

**873. Watch**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

Daytime shifts are the worst.

When the grounds are technically empty, the sun is shining high, so there's no point in expecting a Strigoi attack, and there's hardly any student who is stupid enough to break curfew, even the most patient become terribly bored.

There was a time when Dimitri didn't mind getting this shift. The quiet and the solace helped him think, sort through his thoughts, go through all the new information from his search after the lost princess once again before the new day started – but those times are gone. Now he is restless. There's something boiling inside his veins, urging him to move, to run, to do something, anything, anything that would bring him closer to…

He never finishes this thought.

But in the end, he always ends up under one particular window.

**A/N: Sorry for the delay – the internet is down in the flat. I don't want to bore you with the details, let it be enough that I am kind of pissed off because of it. And that right now I am browsing from a shopping mall, what made me realize that I hate writing in a food court during lunchtime…**


	876. 874 Cookies

**874. Cookies**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 227<p>

Rhea used to bake cookies – this is one thing Lissa will never forget.

They had a cook. They lived in a big manor, they had staff and a cook, and her mother didn't even need to set a foot into the kitchen, but she would still bake cookies for her and Andre. She would put her hair into a messy bun and would tie an apron around her waist and would get down to work, smiling and humming.

She wasn't very good at it – the cookies often got burned, or ended up so hard Lissa could hardly bite into them.

Sometimes, she would get angry because of it – why would she have to eat these cookies, when the cook could make better ones, or they could simply buy some at the store? Why would her mother try so hard, when she wasn't even good at it? Why would she even bother with it, when there were people who could do it for her?

Lissa was a child and she didn't understand that her mother didn't grow up in a big house with people to help like she did, she didn't understand that Rhea baked because she wanted to do it for her children, because she wanted to care, wanted to make them smile.

Today, she understands. Today, she'd do anything to eat her mother's burned cookies again.

**A/N: Internet problem is still in play, but might be solved by tonight. Until then, I'd like to ask for a favor: if somebody happens to have Succubus Blues, could you please PM me the first and last two sentences of the book? It's for creative writing class – we were talking about opening and ending lines yesterday –, and the homework is to bring in opening and closing lines of any prose. If the text is not originally in Hungarian, we are asked to bring in the original versions, too, but I only have this book in Hungarian (you can laugh at me, I have the whole VA series both in English and Hungarian).**


	877. 875 Banana

**875. Banana**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 117<p>

Adrian swallows. Hard.

The best thing in this whole… situation is that she doesn't even have an idea what she's doing to him. She is just having a snack – a healthy, diet-worthy snack, but still a snack, and that is a big leap from her previous sustaining on coffee-habit.

And, of course, this snack just simply has to be a banana. A nice, slightly glistening, elegantly curved banana, a damned fruit that she takes into her mouth and then bites into it, letting out a small moan of contentment as the juices hit her taste buds, the tasty weight of the banana resting against her full lips…

"Adrian, is everything alright?"

He just nods. And swallows. Hard.

**A/N: The wifi is working once again, so finally I can catch up with everything :)**


	878. 876 Dark

**876. Dark**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

After months spent living only after sundown, or hiding in protected rooms, Dimitri comes to hate darkness when he is turned back.

The cell they are keep him in until he is deemed safe is bathed in artificial light most of the time, the soft vibration of the fluorescence lamps hurting his eyes, but at least the brightness keeps him safe, keeps the nightmares away. But when the time comes to sleep – he can't think within the terms of 'day' and 'night' anymore – the lights are turned off.

Darkness engulfs the tiny cell. There's nothing to keep his own demons at bay, and he hates darkness just a little bit more.

…But then the next day Rose comes, and no matter how he tries to deny it, how he fights it, he looks into her dark, dark eyes…

And he is lost and at home at the same time.

**A/N: There's a new poll on my profile, please vote (I might bother you with things like this in the future – even personally – because I have a class this semester which concentrates on American English, especially its differences from British English).**


	879. 877 Light

**877. Light**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 147<p>

Zoya pulls the comforter a little tighter around herself and lets out a small whimper into the darkness.

She said that she didn't need her nightlight anymore. Her family is so brave: her mom, her grandma, her great-grandma, her aunties, her brother, her cousin, and there are, of course, Uncle Dimka and Auntie Roza, living in a far away land, fighting evil creatures every day…

Zoya swallows. She has to be brave, at least for her family. But it's so scary!

She looks around, gripping the comforter. There are monsters hiding in the shadows. Evil vampires – not like daddy – standing behind her curtains.

She sits up in bed, reaches for her bedside table, and – losing her internal battle – turns on her nightlight. Just for a little bit. Just to scare the monsters. She'll turn it off in a couple of minutes.

She is asleep a blink later.

**A/N: Of course, why my Internet connection is finally working, has hardware problems. Sorry for the delay!**  
><strong>To answer a Guest's question: No, I won't study Aussie English (altough Ausisses are awesome!). My university offers two tracks for those in English major: British and American, and I am on the latter, that's why I have an American English class (actually, out of the ten curses I have this semester, four are USA and four are British related, while the remaining two are Creatice Writing classes).<strong>


	880. 878 Contest

**878. Contest**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 114<p>

Rationally, Adrian knows that it is not a contest.

He doesn't have to compare himself to Dimitri. He is his own person, and Rose wouldn't – shouldn't – want him to be different. To be more down to earth, to be more dedicated, more ambitious, to be less self-destructive… To be less complicated.

And still, he can't help but compare himself to the undead dhampir. He promises to quit smoking. He cuts back his drinking. He entertains thoughts of going back to college.

But whatever he does, it never seems enough. It almost feels like Rose was still three steps away from him.

And even though it's not a contest, he feels like he's already lost.


	881. 879 Comb

**879. Comb**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 170<p>

Jill stares into the eyes of her own reflection, plastic comb gripped in her right hand.

Her mother likes to go on and on how pretty she once will be, as soon as she learns how to manage her hair, and she really should learn how to manage her hair, because look at it, it looks like a haystack, and…

Jill lets out a frustrated sigh and drops her gaze. Well, it's not like she _is not trying_ – she does. She combs and brushes and uses this shampoo and that conditioner, but some cases – her case – are simply hopeless. There is nothing in the universe that would tame her mane, she is convinced.

But still – she won't give up the fight; that would be weak of her. So, she raises her gaze once again, and, with it, rises the comb in her hand, nearing her wild locks, ready for battle.

(The comb breaks not even two minutes later. Jill writes herself a note to buy a stronger comb next time.)


	882. 880 Medium

**880. Medium**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 216<p>

Lissa admits: she has had her weak moments.

It happened just after they left the Academy; they were hiding near Boston back then. Rose was still trying to find out where she actually was in the situation – she wanted to protect her, but still enjoy the freedom she hadn't known before –, and was more lenient with her. More oblivious to danger. So when Lissa asked, she said she could visit the theme park what's billboard ad Lissa saw.

Actually, Lissa wasn't that interested in the park itself – there was only one attraction drawing her in – a medium.

Back then, she would have given everything for one more word she could have with her family. Back then, she was foolish.

Finding the medium was easy – the middle-aged human woman with the white-blonde, spiky hair resided in the most colorful tent. And she was ready to serve the devastated girl.

Only… she was a fraud. It was clear after a minute, when she grabbed Lissa's hand and started talking about four lost souls, four people who died in that car.

Lissa yanked her hand away and stormed out of the tent. She didn't need fake consolation. She wanted real, even if it hurt.

The medium watched her leave, not saying a word, only gently shaking her head.


	883. 881 Skin

**881. Skin**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 138<p>

Rose worries about it. She sees herself years from now, her skin weathered, tough and worn. Calloused and broken on her hands, thin and sun-wrinkled on her face, marred with scars everywhere else. She'll lose her softness, her femininity, her beauty to the job, and it hurts, although she knows it shouldn't. They come first. Lissa comes first. Looks doesn't mean a thing.

Dimitri marvels at it. At the dark almond-hue, at the silky softness, at the tiny hairs on her arm that rise when he slips the blanket off of her. He sees the hardened patches on her hand, and they tell him about her determination. He sees the tiny, almost invisible, and the harsh, raised scars, and they tell him about her bravery.

He doubts she could be even more beautiful.

He kisses her worries away.

**A/N: Castle season premier. Still not over it. Don't wanna start gushing about it here. Take a look at my Tumblr, the army of Valkyrie gifs speak for themselves. **


	884. 882 Feet

**882. Feet**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

It takes weeks and several reckon missions, but in the end Adrian manages to figure it out: Sydney is ticklish. On her feet.

Only, it's not easy to use this knowledge.

He has to be patient. Wait until she feels safe. Until she takes off her sensible heels, even her socks. Until she is relaxed enough to lie down on the bed, on her stomach, facing the end of the bed, a book – a very thick volume – open in front of her. Until she is engrossed enough in her reading that she doesn't hear him move.

He has to be quiet and careful. He has to move slowly, slowly enough that he doesn't alert her. Preferably out of her peripheral vision. And then, just as he is within reach, quickly grab her feet – both of them, so she can't kick him – with one hand, and start tickling with the other.

It is so worth it – even with the pillow he gets thrown in his face.


	885. 883 Diamond

**883. Diamond**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 125<p>

Apparently, with being queen comes the key of the treasury. And the – even if temporal – ownership of all the jewels the previous Moroi kings and queens have piled up.

Magnificent opals; vibrant turquoises; emeralds in the color of grass after an April shower; rubies, as big as a baby's fist; and diamonds and diamonds and diamonds… all set in silver and gold and platinum.

Most of the pieces have rich history – there is blood on them, betrayal and hurt. Some tell of love. Others of blackmail and intentions of buying the monarch's good opinion.

Lissa doesn't care about them. As far as she is concerned, they can collect dust in the safe. She has eyes only for one sparkling rock – the one adorning her finger.


	886. 884 Books

**884. Books**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

When the storm is over and the waves are soothed, they finally decide to move in together – they decide not to listen the ill-meaning and the scandalized, just love each other the way they know how.

Putting their boxes next to each other is a strange thing; they both bring things from their childhood homes, things the other hasn't seen before. For Adrian, these things come in a wide variety: paintings and photos and suits he rarely wears, even a little statuette so ugly it's almost beautiful. He claims it's a family heirloom.

Sydney's load is more monotonous – the boxes mostly contain books. Heavy leather-bound volumes with yellowed pages, tiny hardcover notebooks with spidery handwriting, worn paperback with dog-eared pages… Adrian doubts one can read so many books in one lifetime. When he says so, Sydney merely chuckles, and continues putting the books on the shelves, in flawless alphabetical order.

And he continues watching her, amused and in love.

**A/N: When I was young, my dad worked as a librarian in the tine, local library – I spent a large chunk of my childhood there. I am very serious about my books being in order. And about others' books. It's borderline OCD. **


	887. 885 Piggyback

**885. Piggyback**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 170<p>

She is still not hundred percent, but she is still working as hard as she was, putting everything she has into training, completely exhausting herself. So when she fakes an attack and jumps on his back – admittedly, this time without a battle cry –, Dimitri doesn't turn to throw her off, but grabs her arms, drawing them securely around his neck, kissing the back of her right hand. He feels Rose relax against him right away, her body sagging against his neck, her legs circling his waist, clinging to him, her head nuzzling against his neck.

Without another word, he starts walking out of the gym, Rose still on his back.

"You know," she says after a while, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "There's some 'wife-carrying' race someplace. Like you have to run, while carrying your woman on your back, or something. You would totally rock that."

"You think?"

She hums against his skin.

"We should try that sometime. What you think?"

He chuckles, but doesn't answer. She's already asleep.

**A/N: I am running kind of low on prompts, and I still have about 80 free slots. So… here you go :D By the way, out of pure curiosity: has anybody here read James Herriot? **


	888. 886 Wind Chimes

**886. Wind Chimes**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 154<p>

There is now a wind chime hung next to his front door, letting out a heavenly twinkle whenever the air in the room moves, and Mikhail loves it.

Sonya put it there, placed in his personality-less apartment along with numerous plants, glass figurines and other feminine knick-knacks. A part of his subconscious keeps telling him that he should be annoyed by this – by this invasion against his personal space –, but every other part of him is simply vibrating with joy.

Because she is here – she is back, in every sense of the word, in his life, in his bed, in his home, filling the dead, empty place with life. Wherever he looks, he sees her. When the scent of the flowers hit his nose, he smells her perfume. When the light catches the glass figurines, he sees her eyes.

When the draft moves the wind chimes and it twinkles, he hears her laugh.


	889. 887 Mornings

**887. Mornings**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

Janine likes to consider herself a morning person.

She is up and about as soon as her eyes crack open. She is alert even without coffee. If needed, she can be ready to go, dressed and armed, ready for action, in five minutes. She likes to think that this is what makes somebody a "morning person".

But the sad truth is that she hates mornings.

She hates how cold her sheets feel when she, emerging from the land of dreams, comes to her senses. She hates the feeling of being alone. She hates that the first thing she sees are the off-white walls of her room and the generic, framed pictures hanging from them. She hates that after nearly forty years on this planet, this is all she has.

In the mornings, she hates herself a little.

Because this could have been different.

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm looking for volunteers for a little experiment I'd like to do for my American English class. I am looking for native ****British and American English**** speakers, who would be willing to give me their e-mail addresses. The experiment is quick and painless (I'd send you a couple of pictures, and I'd like to ask them what word they would use for the things on the pictures). If you're game, please, send me a PM with your e-mail address! Thank you, guys!**


	890. 888 E-mail

**888. E-mail**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

Abe's biggest regret in life is letting Janine have her way, and promising her not to seek contact with Rose.

Back then, when Rose was born, it seemed like a sound idea. Of course it hurt – it hurt like hell when that small, pink bundle was handed to him, and he knew that this would be the only time he'd be allowed to hold her –, but he believed that it was for the better. His… position… wasn't that secure then as it is now. And he had – and still has, even more now – enemies.

Not the most ideal conditions to raise a baby (because he wanted to – he had this fleeting idea of convincing Janine to let him take the baby with him. The thought kept him company for days, until its impossibility hit him).

He regrets it now. Now he knows he should have fought. Should have raised his voice.

Because an e-mail now and then from Janine about Rose is far from enough.

**A/N: I am still waiting for volunteers for my little experiment :) The more the merrier! :)**


	891. 889 Cat

**889. Cat**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 193<p>

Oscar has mixed feeling towards his mansion's newest inhabitants.

Usually, he doesn't mind when his servant brings new twolegs home – it only means more hands to feed and pet him, which is a pretty good thing, considering that his servant sometimes seems to forget about him. Which is, by the way, unacceptable.

But back to his two potential new servants. The taller, skinnier one with the light fur (twolegs are funny that way – they only seem to grow fur on their heads, but some manage to grow it out impossibly long) is okay. She smells nice and has a soft palm. She is especially skilled when it comes to scratching his ears. Yeah, he likes that one.

But the other, darker colored one… there's something sinister about her. Oscar can't really put his paw on the problem, but he can't stand the other twoleg. She is just… yuck. He wants her out of his mansion. The sooner the better. The other can stay – maybe he could get her and his servant breed? –, but the dark one has to go.

Only one problem remains – how could he communicate his wishes to his servant?

**A/N: Sorry for the delay – I really have no excuse this time, only maybe that you can blame it on my flatmate. And his wine.  
>Also, about this drabble: cats once were worshipped as gods. And they will never forget that. <strong>


	892. 890 Grandpa

890. Grandpa

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

"Don't worry – you'll stick around long enough to play with your grandkids, dad," Natalie would often tell him before placing a kiss on the papery skin of his cheek.

There was a time when Victor believed his daughter. There was a time when he had hope – hope that it would work out, he'd get better, this way or the other, and he'd see his daughter in all white, he'd get to walk her down the aisle, and then he'd be there to see her tired but overjoyed smile as she hands him his first grandchild…

There was a time when it was the only thought that kept him going.

But now he might live to see a hundred, but Natalie is gone, and she'll never have a baby he could hold close to his heart.


	893. 891 Red

**891. Red**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

It's so… not her. So… alien. Not something she'd usually wear. Not something she'd usually feel comfortable in. And still…

Sydney stands in front of the full length mirror of the small changing room, eyeing her reflection and watching as her fingers skim along the lacy hem of the bright red bra she is wearing. This is exactly the kind of thing Alchemists would frown upon, but she… she actually likes it. The way it hugs her figure, accentuates the fairness of her skin. How teasing and sexy, yet almost demure it is…

She blinks. It still startles her sometimes how… free, uninhibited she has become in the last year or so. Not that it's a bad thing.

Also – she can't wait to see Adrian's face when he first sees her in it.

**A/N: Kitty – read the very first chapter of VA and you'll realize :)**


	894. 892 Orange

**892. Orange**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 113<p>

Lissa eyes her breakfast, one hand on her belly, her stomach churning. She swallows.

It's what she usually has, nothing out of the ordinary – toast, jam, fresh fruits, a glass of orange juice. Light, full and healthy. Exactly what she needs to get through the morning. Exactly what she's been having at least every second morning for years. And she loves it.

But not today. Today – and yesterday, and the day before that, and most likely tomorrow – she hates even its smell. The orange juice, her favorite juice ever since she can remember, seems especially revolting, as if it was mocking her.

Lissa groans, her head rolling forward.

Morning sickness is no fun.


	895. 893 Yellow

**893. Yellow**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 189<p>

The bedroom of the apartment we are given is painted bright yellow. Not happy-sunshine-yellow, more like old-piss-with-a-little-lemon-juice-yellow. And it even has some intricate, messy, gaudy pattern – if I try to make it out what it's supposed to be, I feel like going crazy. In short, it's ugly. Beyond ugly.

We put up with it a couple of days. Okay, weeks – there are more important things to be done, like helping Lissa get used to her new position, unpacking boxes, making sure my mother and father don't embarrass me with their once-again-found love, making up for the lost time with Dimitri… you get my drift. Our ugly walls are somehow always pushed back on the list.

But one day – or night – everybody runs out of excuses. There's a point where you just can't take anymore, when you lay awake in bed, your partner half-asleep next to you, and you can't do anything but gaze at that terrible wall.

"Dimitri?" A questioning grunt. "Can you repaint the room tomorrow?" An agreeing hum. He might as well be asleep. "And can we paint it hot pink?" Another agreeing hum.

Yep. He's asleep.

**A/N: Who can spot the literary reference in it? :) Hint: short story from the late 19****th**** century. **


	896. 894 Green

**894. Green**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 129<p>

Sonya stands in the sun, her arms outstretched, the sweet, summer air filling her lungs. She didn't even realize how she missed it.

She is surrounded by green, sea of green, with flecks of color – white, red, yellow, violet. Even as a Strigoi, she did everything to be around her beloved plants – even her twisted mind couldn't part with them –, but everything is different in the dark. Everything is muted, pessimistic, lacking the spark of life.

This – the bright emerald of the bushes and the leaves, dotted with colorful gem – is better. So much better. It's full of life, of promise, of opportunity.

Two strong arms encircle her waist from behind. She smiles and snuggles into Mikhail's embrace.

Full of life, promise and opportunity – just like her future.


	897. 895 Blue

**895. Blue**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 166<p>

They are lying in the soft grass under the endless dome of the clear blue morning sky. They should go inside – the sun is already uncomfortably high –, but neither of them feels like moving.

"I like to believe that they are up there," Lissa says, her voice small, uncertain. Christian's fingers wrap around her slender hand seemingly on their own accord. "I like to believe that they felt nothing of the crash – that it was like falling asleep for them – and that now they are there, looking down at me and watching over me. I like to believe that they are proud of me." She closes her eyes for a moment. A single tear escapes from under her lashes. "I can almost see mom's smile and hear Andre's laugh…" She takes a deep breath. "I just hope that wherever they are, they are happy there, and that they will wait for me."

Christian caresses her face.

"But let them wait for a little longer, okay?"


	898. 896 Indigo

**896. Indigo**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 131<p>

The night sky is never actually black; it's more like a deep, deep indigo.

And it's different in Baia than at the Academy or at Court, I realize. The stars above you are different, and they seem to be closer to you. Or might be just the fact that here, the whole world seems smaller. There are no grand gestures, no political plays and state dinners – only vodka and finger food and friends chattering and torches around you to give some light.

My world, at the moment, is even more limited – it ends with the blanket thrown over us, as Dimitri and I are sitting on the stairs, oblivious to the people around us, gazing up on the deep, deep indigo sky, dotted with millions and millions of tiny, silver stars.

**A/N: It seemed like a nice touch – Lissa seeing the daytime sky, hitting a melancholic voice; Rose seeing the night sky, hitting a more hopeful note :)**


	899. 897 Violet

**897. Violet**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 177<p>

Adrian wasn't always this suave.

Her name was Violet – she wasn't royal, or belong to any prominent family, but she had gorgeous black eyes and a sweet smile. They were thirteen.

There was this little dance at their school, and they were just old enough to attend. He wanted to ask her to be his date. He bought flowers and made a plan. He was going to talk to her. He was.

He was just shy and kind of afraid. (Two bouquets of flowers wilted before he gathered his courage.)

When he finally did ask, she smiled and hugged him, telling him that he was sweet. But she already had a date – a guy, a year older than them, whom Adrian would have gladly called a douchebag without remorse. But even he had to admit: the guy had some lines.

In the end, he didn't go to the dance, but promised himself not to be intimidated by a girl once again.

(It worked for a couple of years, but then some pretty feisty girls entered his life.)

**A/N: I saw **_**About Time**_** today – amazing movie. More like this, please. **


	900. 898 Gray

**898. Gray**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

As a child, Jill liked to think that everything was either black or white. That's what great bedtime stories were all about: the bad guy defeated by the fearless hero. Black and white. Easy. Simple.

When she became a princess and moved to Court, she had to realize that it isn't so simple. Life rarely is. There are guys who are essentially good, but will do nothing – either because they don't want to, or because they don't have the funds for it; there are guys who are essentially bad, but have enough influence to do good things. As long as it's good for them, too. And you have to tolerate both of them.

At Court, there are no black and white. No clear edges. Only a wide scale of gray.

Jill misses her childhood bedtime stories.


	901. 899 Black

**899. Black**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 151<p>

It's New Year's Eve, they are at a party, and Rose's dress is black – short and clingy and unbelievably sexy. He can barely keep his hands off of her.

And it's so much like _that_ black dress.

He still remembers that night so clearly. He remembers seeing her laughing, on Ashford's arm. He remembers how jealous has was. He remembers how she lashed out and knocked down Mia. He remembers how furious, yet oddly proud he was. He remembers how… how she came into his room, how a single touch seemed to set their world aflame, a blazing bonfire, how her kisses felt like, how that black dress looked on the floor…

But the past is the past. It's time to live in the now.

His arm tightens around her waist as he leans down and kisses her. He can't wait to how this dress will look like on the floor.


	902. 900 White

**900. White**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

When the consultant asks her what kind of dress she wants, Lissa simply says: white.

She honestly has no idea what she wants – over the last few years, amongst making new laws, abolishing old ones, fighting royals, thinking about what kind of dress she would want to wear on her wedding day was the least of her worries. Over the last few years, her thoughts was filled with things like how to get the majority of the votes in this matter or that, not whether she would wear a mermaid or a ball gown-style skirt.

But now she is here, standing in the small boudoir, a silk robe draped over her, pondering over sweetheart necklines and lace hems, and she still has no idea what she really wants.

And anyways: does it matter?

So she just shrugs. She wants white – every other detail will be worked out with time.

**A/N: I admit: **_**Say Yes to the Dress**_** is my occasional dirty pleasure. **


	903. 901 Pink

**901. Pink**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 140<p>

They agree on not to find out the sex – to let it be surprise. Still, Lissa insists that it's a girl – relying on spirit, and mother's instinct, and anyway, who would dare to contradict her? – and Christian is smart enough not to go against his pregnant wife.

So… They prepare for a girl. Or more accurately, Lissa prepares for a girl and Christian lets her. She buys little pink and white outfits, with lace and ruffles. A pink, fuzzy, stuffed rabbit, which is halfway between being cute and creepy. A mobile with butterflies, predominantly in pink. She has the nursery painted pink. Although Christian makes a stand when she declares that she wants to have a mural made with pinkified woodland creatures. At this point, he is getting fed up with pink.

Then the time comes.

And it's a boy.


	904. 902 Gold

**902. Gold**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

At first sight, Janine didn't find Ibrahim attractive at the slightest.

As a young man, he was maybe even flashier – braver, wearing colors so bright and diverse he wouldn't look at them now (of course, fashion was different back then). He was more of a show off, not yet quite mastered the skill of subtlety.

And his jewelry! Golden earrings, and cufflinks, and rings, and two heavy golden chains in his neck and that horrible pocket watch… Way too much for her taste. So no, based on his looks, she didn't find him attractive. More like repulsive.

But then he spoke – low cadence, like dripped honey, smooth and sweet, with a hint of exotic accent…

Okay, so maybe she fell in love with his voice first.

**A/N: This prompt reminds me (Gold/Rumpel) – I don't watch OUaT this season (I got enough of it), but I watched the pilot of the Alice/Wonderland spin off, and – who the hell thought that it would be a good idea? Jumbled plot, bland-faced actors, bad and way too much CGI… and how am I supposed to take this Playmate Red Queen seriously? I mean, Lana Parilla/Regina is beautiful, yet she manages to look menacing. This girl is pretty on her own way, but as an actor, knows nothing more than pouting. And, as a soft-core corset-fetishist, Alice's outfit really bothered me – I mean, where are the front clasps from her corset? And who fit that thing that it flags around her breasts?**


	905. 903 Silver

**903. Silver**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

Time flies. Things change. People change.

His hair is much shorter now, and there are silver streaks in it around his temples. There are lines around his eyes, his mouth – created by worry and laughter. His left shoulder is stiff, doesn't work properly anymore – a souvenir from a battle… was it fifteen years ago now? Might be sixteen.

But then again, some things never change – they still go jogging in the morning, although they are slowing down. They still bicker, and she still talks back, witty as ever, and he still smiles at her just like when she was a teenager. He still reads westerns, and she still calls him comrade. Her hair is still long, and he still loves it, even if it has lost most of its shine. The still can't get enough of each other.

Some things change over time – but some things remain the same.


	906. 904 Bed Sheets

**904. Bed Sheets**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 178<p>

Sydney crosses her arms and furrows her brows. Maybe this whole "moving together"-thing wasn't the best idea if they are arguing over even petty things, like what kind of bed sheets they should buy.

She, unable to deny her simple Alchemist upbringing, votes for something simple – cotton or flannel, in nice, light, earthy tones, or maybe in faded yellow. Nothing too fancy, nothing too expensive.

Adrian, unable to deny his royal upbringing, votes for something more extravagant – silk or sateen, high quality, preferably in dark colors, maybe in black or red. He says it would contrast her fair tones nicely.

So they argue, in the middle of the store, neither of them ready to stand back. In the end, she buys the cotton and he buys the silk. Money through the window.

At home he manages to convince her to put on his choice – she is still so pissed at him that tells him do whatever he wants.

The silk really is heavenly. She falls in love with it.

Not that she is going to tell him that.

**A/N: I never do this, but… I had a crappy day. Some nice words to cheer me up? **


	907. 905 Monkey Pee in Battery Acid

**905. Monkey Pee in Battery Acid**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

Sydney never thought that she would come to this – that there would be a day when she considered coffee her sworn enemy.

She spits the dark liquid back into the mug, her stomach churning. She grimaces, fighting the bout of nausea that's about to have her dash for the nearest bathroom.

"You are still trying?" Adrian's tone is somewhere between being sympathetic and amused. She nods, not trusting her voice. "Still tastes like monkey pee in battery acid?" She really doesn't want to think about how that would taste, but nods. It can't be that much worse than this coffee…

Groaning, she lets her head fall on her arms, efficiently lying across the table.

She can't see it, but feels as Adrian moves – stands up, steps to her and, leaning down, presses a kiss to her hair.

"I love how stubborn you are."

**A/N: Thank you for your kind words! You can't even imagine how much your little messages mean to me :) You rock! Also – I don't know who sent me this prompt, but I love you! :)**


	908. 906 Colonial

**906. Colonial**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

Rose never thought that there would be a time when she regretted having been invited to a party – but she now curses her invitation to the masquerade ball Lissa is hosting.

The corset is cinching at her waist. She can hardly breathe. The skirts are heavy, and she is constantly in fear of tripping over them. Moreover, she has no idea how to sit down in them. And her hair – it feels like she has a whole year worth of hairspray on it. Not to mentions about six dozens of pins.

She can't wait to get out of this ridiculous outfit – and she only put it on like ten minutes ago.

But then the door opens, Dimitri walks in, glances and her and – and his jaw hits the floor. Almost.

Okay – maybe this this dress is not half bad.


	909. 907 Soft

**907. Soft**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 161<p>

Whether Dimitri would like to admit it or not, the urge is there within him from moment number one – from the very moment he met Rose face to face. He actually remembers that, when her hair fell forward, obscuring half of her face, his first thought wasn't how could he use this to his advantage – no, it was_: I wonder if her hair is as soft as it looks_.

Was it unprofessional? In more than one ways. Is he ashamed of it? Pretty much. Still, it can't be denied – the same thought still surfaces in his mind rather often. Like ten times a day.

How would it feel to tangle his hands in those heavy, dark locks? How would they shine in the candlelight? What kind of noise would she make if he gently tugged at them?

But he is a Guardian. A responsible adult. A professional. He knows his place. So these thoughts remain what they are – thoughts.

For now.


	910. 908 Nine

**908. Nine**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 206<p>

It's nine in the evening – well into the vampire morning – and she is still in bed. And she doesn't even have any plans of leaving it soon.

Dimitri woke up hours ago, wisely let her to be, went for his morning jog, came back, took a shower (okay, maybe there was a point where she considered getting out of bed), and now, based on the noise he's making, he is preparing breakfast. Any other time she'd find it adorable, but right now the clattering of the utensils makes her head pound, and she is afraid she'll empty her stomach the moment she smells any kind of food.

She groans and buries her head in the pillow.

It's a maybe a few moments, maybe half an hour later when she feels the mattress shift as Dimitri sits down next to her. Gently moving her, he coaxes her limp body into a sitting position and hands her a glass of water and an aspirin.

"How are you?" he asks, his voice full of concern, no hint of condemnation. She appreciates it.

"Been better. Will pull through," she says, swallowing the pill and drowning the water. "But let's just say I am glad Liss has only one bachelorette party."


	911. 909 Squeeze

**909. Squeeze**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 124<p>

"I am so sorry," Sydney whispers, mortified, sounding kind of small, on hand on his shoulder, the other soothing over the red spot on his face. "I didn't mean to, I really didn't. You just…" she lets out a breath and tries again. "You just startled me, that's all. I am not exactly used to this, and I just jumped. But I am not angry or anything…" she peeks at him shyly from under her lashes. "And you are not mad at me either, right? Not really."

Adrian moves his jaw – yep, it works, nothing's broken –, then goes for a charming smile. It's not that effective as usually.

"I am not, it's just I gotta remember this for the future: no surprise butt-squeezing."

**A/N: I absolutely have no excuses this time, aside from a girls' night in with a bunch of Mel Brooks movies, lasting until four a.m.**


	912. 910 Leather Jacket

**910. Leather Jacket**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 101<p>

They kind of match in their non-matching ways.

His measured calmness to her vibrant attitude.

His controlled rage to her quick temper.

His quiet words to her loud ones.

His preference to the retro to her fondness for everything new.

His western books to her occasional urban fantasies.

His beloved duster to her fitting leather jacket.

But at the same time, they both are fiercely loyal. Deadly to their enemies. Fearless in battle. Quick to laugh at each other's jokes. Ready to die to protect their friends. Capable to love to the fullest.

They are like yin and yang.

Perfect harmony.

**A/N: Now I am off to edit my new Castle one-shot – a post-ep for **_**Time Will Tell**_** –, so look out for it later tonight! :)**


	913. 911 Orchids

**911. Orchids**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 150<p>

It started with a single orchid.

They worked at the same place, yet eons apart, for years, not even seeing each other. At least Sonya didn't see him – sure, they must have passed each other in the halls, in the garden, in the library, in the auditorium countless times, but he was just another Guardian, one more serious face she was taught no to pay too much attention to. But he, of course, saw her.

He has always had eyes for her.

It was a Sunday, she remembers, just after mass. He approached her, out of the blue, with something behind his back. She waited; let him say whatever he came to say.

And then he presented the small pot with blossoming orchid to her.

"I love your flowers," he said, "and I noticed that orchids are missing from your repertoire."

That was the first time Sonya really saw Mikhail.


	914. 912 Mount

**912. Mount**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 171<p>

Okay, so maybe Christian should have expected it.

Lissa is a lady through and through – both by nature and upbringing. She has impeccable manners. She have been taught etiquette, ballroom dancing and the like. So of course she has had… classes of this kind. Also, she has always loved animals.

And, of course, he should have thought that she would want him to try it out, too.

Christian swallows and gazes into the horse's eyes. It looks back, somewhat… menacingly.

Lissa, of course, is already in the saddle, sitting tall and proud.

"Come on, Christian!" she laughs. "Just climb up. It's not that big deal."

He tries not to grimace – it's a big deal for him –, but then shakes his head in defeat and actually moves to try. He grabs the saddle with both hands, puts his foot into the stirrup, takes a deep breath, and…

Somehow ends up, although sturdily sitting on top of the horse, but facing its rear end.

He is never going to live this down.


	915. 913 Prague

**913. Prague**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 119<p>

It's rare that Rose and Dimitri get a day off at the same time, and it's even rarer that it happens when they are abroad – but now Lissa's on a diplomatic tour around Europe, and Christian has tagged along, so they are both here now, protecting their friends, in Prague, but currently enjoying a day off.

They don't have grandiose plans – that's not their style –, they are simply playing tourist, strolling around in downtown, marveling at the old buildings, stumbling on the cobblestoned streets. Laughing in the drizzling rain. Kissing under the old arches.

It' rare when they get a day off at the same time, but when they do – well, then they make the most of it.


	916. 914 Falling in Love

**914. Falling in Love**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 168<p>

No-one tells you how it is really supposed to work.

All you know is how it works in fairytales – how the princess is saved by the prince, they look at each other, and clashing personalities and preferences to be damned, they head for the happily ever after. All you know is how it is in Disney movies – how love conquers all in the end, and a kiss solves everything. All you know is how it shown by Shakespeare – how love ends in tragedy.

But here's the deal: real life is not fiction.

When you experience it, it's gradual. There's nonchalant sexual attraction at first. Then comes some longing. And then the denial. The admission. The pain. The knowledge that it's pointless, that you can never be together. But then there's the hope, hope for some miracle, hope for something to happen, something to change…

Hope for a few borrowed moments, for a stolen kiss.

Falling in love is nothing like they tell you. But it is worth it.


	917. 915 Rock'n'Roll

**915. Rock'n'Roll**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

Adrian adapted his rock'n'roll-inspired outlook on life when spirit first started being really bad: live fast, die young. What's the point of trying to remain healthy and fit, when you have no idea what tomorrow might bring? When you might go mad the next day and rip open your own arteries? When those damned substances bring you momentary relief?

So he drinks and smokes and parties and woos girls. Takes a few of them to his bed. Gets slapped sometimes. He doesn't really care. All of this gets him through the day.

He doesn't dismiss the possibility that a day will come when he will find something important – something worth living for, really living for. Something that will be stronger than alcohol and nicotine.

But until then he continues to destroy himself willingly.


	918. 916 21

**916. 21**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 193<p>

Rose wanted to give a eulogy on Mason's funeral – she couldn't, partly because the funeral was held in his hometown, and partly because… because she wouldn't have been able to.

Nonetheless, she thought it about it – about what she would have said.

She most likely would have emphasized, of course, what a great friend he had been. What a great guardian. Somebody on whom you can rely on. But those are nothing but clichés. Things everybody says at funerals. These things, honestly, make her sick.

Then what? She thought about telling the people in black how Mason had been waiting for his twenty-first birthday. How he had this plan, long before they had known how alcohol tasted and how it could be sneaked into campus, of getting utterly wasted on the night of his twenty-first. Just because he could. She would have told them that his plans hadn't changed as the years had gone by. She would have told them, smiling and crying at the same time.

But she didn't. She couldn't. And it doesn't even matter.

Because he didn't live to be twenty-one.

Because there's no speech that could bring him back.


	919. 917 I Don't Care

**917. I Don't Care**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 142<p>

Christian knows he is in trouble the moment the words leave Lissa's mouth. Because a casual "I don't care" at the end of a petty, but intense argument doesn't mean that she really doesn't care, but it can be interpreted as "do what you want, but you'd better know that I am pissed off at you." (He is not very well versed in girl-language, but even he knows this phrase.)

So he sighs and says that he is sorry. He didn't mean it. Yes, he will be as charming as he can be at the banquet tomorrow. Yes, he'll stay home with her on Friday night, instead of going out for a drink with his offensive magic-students. And yes, he'll put away his comics from the coffee table. Especially when she has important guests.

Anything to keep her happy. (And him sane.)


	920. 918 I'm The Best

**918. I'm The Best**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 127<p>

The room is filled with vampires (the Béla Lugosi kind), werewolves, zombies, and practically every kind of make-believe character and profession that can be turned into a slutty costume.

_Yes_, Rose thinks as she leans against the bar, _Halloween has definitely arrived._

She looks around the room, taking every partygoer into inventory. Everybody seems to have taken seriously the "costumes are mandatory" part of the invitation. Everybody, except one person, standing barely three feet from her, clad in his usual, but fancy attire: Adrian.

Rose chuckles into her punch, remembering his explanation of his costume, or, more accurately, the lack of thereof.

"I am dressed as myself," he shrugged at her inquiry, taking a sip of whatever he was drinking. "Can you think of a better costume?"

**A/N: To everybody who is celebrating Halloween – have fun! :) I am a tad bit envious of you…**


	921. 919 Ugly

**919. Ugly**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 130<p>

There are days, when Rose only wants to wear turtlenecks, or wrap herself up in a scarf – anything that will hide the scars on her chest.

Days, when Lissa honestly considers – even if for a moment – getting an implant. Or at least a push-up bra.

Days, when Sydney goes on without eating, or only nibbles on an apple, in fear of gaining even a little weight.

Days, when Mia spends an hour in front of the mirror, trying to cover the slight imperfection of her nose with make up as much as she can.

Days, when they feel ugly. Shy. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Unworthy.

But then they see the look of pure love and adoration in the eyes of their significant other, and it's enough for them to feel beautiful again.

**A/N: Although I focused on girls' body image issues here, let's not forget that guys are no different. They have the same issues we girls do, only they hide it better, usually. **


	922. 920 Lonely

**920. Lonely**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 110<p>

It is strange, how life really works.

Before, two years ago or so, Mia was nothing more than a freckle on the face of the Academy. Unimportant, easily missed. But she had a few close… friends, who really cared about her.

She wanted to be more. She wanted to be seen. She wanted to be somebody.

And now – now she is never alone. She always has people around her. People who follow her. Who echo her opinions. Who laugh at her lame jokes. Who try to mimic her.

A flock of sheep.

Sometimes she is not even sure of the names of some of them.

She has never been lonelier.

**A/N: There are still about 50 slots for prompts open :)**


	923. 921 I Love You

**921. I Love You**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 135<p>

I love you – I want to tell you this. You can't even imagine how much I want to tell you this. Every morning when you walk into the gym, still sleep-ridden, eyelids heavy, but already ready for a smile, I want to tell you that I love you. And when you are close to me, skin on skin, breaths mingling, hands and arms and legs colliding. And when you turn and your hair moves and the air moves and your scent hits me, almost tackling me to the ground.

I want to tell you that I love you. Because I do, Rose, I do. More than anything.

But I can't. Not now, not here. Not in this life, not in this society.

But I wish…

One day. One day I will tell you, I promise.

**A/N: Please, don't send me fic ideas! When I ask for a prompt, I ask for words, phrases, sayings, titles, songs, etc. – things I can work with. Please, do not send things like 'write one about zombies' – just give me something to start from, trust me, and leave the associating to me. Thank you! (And really, please don't ask me to write about zombies. Zombies freak me out.)**


	924. 922 Doppelgänger

**922. Doppelgänger**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 251<p>

When I first got to Russia, I saw him everywhere. It was as much a survival instinct as wishful thinking. Every tall guy, every short ponytail, every flicker of leather, every heavily accented word seemed to be him. I hated it. I relished in it.

And then I met him. Anatoly. I guess that was him name.

It was my second week in Russia, my ninth night on the hunt, stationed in a low-end nightclub. He came to me – at first I thought I was hallucinating. Dreaming. I thought I was seeing _him_ – Dimitri –, the old Dimitri, the one I remembered, the one with the eyes full of life and the half-smile at the corner of his mouth.

Then he spoke, and the voice didn't match. He started in Russian, then when he saw I couldn't understand him, he switched to broken English. He introduced himself. He said I was beautiful. He wanted to buy me a drink. He wanted to dance with me.

His words were flat.

He was empty. Unimportant. At least for me.

I chased him away as soon as I could. Before I got too weak and accepted when he offered.

Before I chose the easy way – because it would have been easy to talk to him and flirt with him and kiss him and grind to him and meanwhile imagining that it really was Dimitri, and not some guy looking like him I'd just met.

It would have been easy.

But I don't need copies.


	925. 923 Calculator

**923. Calculator**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 174<p>

Angeline turned around the strange object in her hand, her brows furrowed. She'd never seen such a thing before. It was rectangular, but on the slim side, dark gray in color, with many tine buttons. She scowled at it.

"Tell me once again – what the hell it is?"

Jill let out a frustrated sigh.

"It's a calculator. You use it to count."

"Why would I need it? I can count just fine on my own."

Jill started tapping her feet on the carpet.

"There are… difficult things, things you can't make out in your head – things you use the calculator for."

Angeline snorted.

"How? By counting the buttons? Doesn't seem like much help to me."

"No," Jill tried to explain, her voice becoming more and more strained. "You type the problem in, and the calculator does the math for you."

Angeline seemed to consider it.

"Alright… but how do I type anything in?"

Jill is a nice person. A patient person. But even she has her limits. And she had just reached it.

"Sydney!"

**A/N: Dear anon Guest,  
>Up until today, I hadn't even heard about Wattpad, but I checked it out, and it seems like a nice little site. I made an account – Orlissa – but I can't promise that I'll be a diligent uploader :)<strong>


	926. 924 Eos

**924. Eos**

POV: Lissa  
>Word Count: 202<p>

There is an old vampire myth – actually, it's kind of silly, and a bit illogical, but I still like it, because… well, because it's really romantic.

So, according to this myth, Moroi originally didn't exist – there were only humans and Strigoi, living in the constant dance of the hunt of each other. But as twisted as the Strigoi were already then, there was one who fell in love with a human girl, but he couldn't have her, because he couldn't walk in the sun.

He was heartbroken, and didn't want to live anymore – not without his lover. So one night, as dawn approached, he went to a meadow, ready to end his life in the sun. But Eos, goddess of the dawn, saw him and had mercy on him – she turned him into a Moroi: a creature who still drank blood, but could walk in the sun. She had only one condition: he could stay like that only as long as he didn't kill once again.

This is how the story ends – it doesn't even talk about whether he ended up with the girl in the end or not. Or how dhampirs came to be.

But I believe in a happy ending.


	927. 925 Friends

**925. Friends**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 153<p>

Sydney has never appreciated lazy days before – she simply didn't know how to do that.

All her life, ever since her father started her training, was about always being in motion, always doing something – early wake-up calls, studying, writing reports, keeping her potions stocked, keeping her superiors happy. Very little fun and games, even less lazing around.

Thinking about it now, she can't even remember the last time she slept in.

But now, lying on this worn couch, her head in Adrian's lap, still in her PJs despite the noon sun beating against the heavy drapes, the sound of the old laugh track of this nineties sitcom about a handful of friends they've been marathoning – Adrian said she simply had to see it, she would love it, and she didn't resist – filling the air, she thinks…

She closes her eyes for a second.

Yes. She could get used to lazy days like this.


	928. 926 Fanfiction

**926. Fanfiction**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 176<p>

It was Christian's dirty little secret – but who could blame him? It was a long wait between seasons.

Better to say it out without beating around the bush: he had a account he used to read _Game of Thrones_ fanfictions. (Not that he would ever admit to it to his friends.)

Even now, in sweet solitude in their room, sitting at the desk, eyes glued to the screen, he is, in spirit, in Westeros, riding next to Khaleesi…

"Christian, are you ready?"

He jumps a little at Lissa's words and shuts the laptop in haste.

"Almost," he says, looking over his shoulder. Lissa's standing at the doorway, a small, barely there smile on her face. "I'll be out in a moment." Lissa nods and turns to leave, but before she could step out of the room, he calls after her. "Hey, Liss… You didn't see what I was doing, right?"

He can see in her eyes that she a hard time keeping her laughter at bay.

"No, I didn't see you reading your fanfiction again."

**A/N: No, I won't make them read fanfics of themselves – sorry if you were expecting something like (I am still happy with this one, though) Also, internet hugs and cookies to those who can spot the movie reference :P**


	929. 927 Altitude

**927. Altitude**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 162<p>

Adrian's been giving her strange looks and naughty winks ever since they took off. She tries to ignore him, but that's never been an easy task.

Especially when his hand is on her knee, slowly inching upwards.

He keeps doing it for a couple of minutes, his hand finally stopping about two inches south of the apex of her thighs, then he lets out a dramatic sigh and stands up, starting the short journey towards the plane's toilet. He walks slowly, even stopping midway to throw a significant look at her over his shoulder.

Sydney simply rolls her eyes at his antics.

Minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen. Then somebody gets enough and knocks on the bathroom door. A second later it opens, and out steps a little disappointed looking Adrian.

He throws himself back into the seat and turns to her, his gaze almost accusing.

"You were supposed to follow me."

A simple glare from her is enough to get him stop talking.


	930. 928 Bang

**928. Bang**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

The shots echo in Dimitri's head even hours after they are fired.

It's like the scene is on repeat in his mind – and he can't turn it off –: the shots, Rose jumping, then falling, blood everywhere, her eyes closing…

He closes his eyes and hits the wall with his fist. There's no real force behind it, but it's all he can do now. He can't rewind time. He can't keep her from getting shot. He can't heal her. He can't even hold her hand now, giving her strength, telling her that he is still there, that she can't leave him, that he wouldn't survive that.

No – the only thing he can do is wait, wait until something happens, until the surgeon comes with news, until the night ends. Wait, and hear the shots again and again and again…

**A/N: Okay, an off topic question (two, really): who watches **_**Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D**_**.? If the answer is yes, what do you think of FitzSimmons? Ship, or cutest BrOTP ever? **


	931. 929 Firecracker

**929. Firecracker**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

Rationally, Rose knows that what she hears are only firecrackers, put into motion by the citizens of Baia, celebrating some kind Russian holiday she is not familiar with. Rationally, she knows that they are harmless, as long as they don't go off in your hand. Rationally she knows that she has no reason to panic.

But a non-rational part of her is shaking with fear.

Because every little bang in the distance feels like another bullet biting into her chest, tearing away skin and muscle and bone. It feels like another heartbeat pumping her blood out of her body. It feels like another ragged breath, hurting so much she is not sure she can take another.

It feels like another little death.

Rationally, she knows she shouldn't be terrified of them.

But it is hard to be rational now.

**A/N: Kind-of-sequel of yesterday's drabble, that might, or might not have been inspired by 'Kill Shot' (Castle season 4, episode 9). Also, dear 'guest' Kitty – could you please give me some address or something where I can reach out to you personally? (Tumblr, Twitter, Deviantart?)**


	932. 930 Hamartia

**930. Hamartia**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 194<p>

He has a long history with Tasha.

They met when he was still guarding Ivan Zeklos – the two Moroi tended to be the part of the same crew. He and Tasha hit it off right as they met. They just hit the right note, understood each other. She was fun to be around, easy to talk with. She treated him as an equal, and he confided in her.

There was nothing romantic between them, there never was – at least not on his part.

He was actually surprised when she came forward with her offer, and however alluring it was, he never really considered accepting it, not even when Rose told him that he should take it. It wouldn't have been him.

So he told Tasha this – he came clean to her. Confessed that he loved another. Told her that he didn't want to hurt her. That he hoped it didn't change anything between them, that they could stay friends.

Tasha smiled then, hugged him, and said that, of course, they were still friends. That she understood. He looked into her eyes and believed her.

It was one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

**A/N: Actually, up until Last Sacrifice came out, I was on Tasha's side. I didn't understand why she was getting so much hate – all she did was falling for Dimitri, and who could blame her for that? Other than this mishap she was nothing but nice and great. The Last Sacrifice came and – yep. I kinda misjudged her :D**


	933. 931 Hubris

**931. Hubris**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 110<p>

Tasha planned everything so well.

Snatch the stake. Get into the royal chambers. Kill. Do not leave any real evidence behind. Stay in character. Fight. Be supportive. Smile when needed, cry when needed. Be there for people in need.

And everything was going so well, according to plan. She was winning. She knew it. She knew Lissa would win in the end, and then she'd have a puppet on the throne. She knew Rose would be found guilty in the end, and then Dimitri would be free.

But there were some factors she failed to consider: friendship. Bravery. Comradery. Stubbornness. Love.

And these things caused her fall in the end.

**A/N: Kitty – I'd just like to talk to you, discuss inane things with you, without boring my other readers with our private talk.**


	934. 932 Tragedy

**932. Tragedy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

A day after the accident – the day after her whole family died – a bunch of people, important people, people she should have known, and must have met before, came to visit her at the hospital.

They brought her flowers. Even chocolate (like she wanted to eat anything). They sat by her bedside. One tried to hold her hand.

She can't remember their faces.

They said cliché things. Like what a tragedy it was. That they were sorry for her loss. That there were people out there looking out for her.

She tried to unhear their words.

Because they meant that it was real.

There was no going back.

No waking up from this nightmare.

She, Vasilisa Sabrina Rhea Dragomir was an orphan. A princess. The last of her line.

(She just wanted to go back in time and change it all.)


	935. 933 Cloudy

**933. Cloudy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 149<p>

Sometimes a cloudy sky only means that rain is coming. Sometimes it means so much more. Yeva is well aware of it.

And these clouds… They are not bringers of good news. No – something sinister is coming. Something terrible. She doesn't know exactly where or when it will happen, but… It will. And it will affect her and her family, she knows that much. She always knows things like this.

She grips the windowsill, her heart clenched painfully, gazing at the angry, gray clouds. She tries to will them away, command them to leave them alone, but it's in vain.

Whatever it is, it will happen, no matter what she does.

She sighs and closes the window. The most she can do now is to pray.

(It's not until months later that she learns the clouds dominated the sky the day her grandson was ripped away from the world.)


	936. 934 Fear

**934. Fear**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 119<p>

Lissa wants to get out of here.

She doesn't care about safety protocol. She doesn't care about the chaos. She doesn't care about what's proper. She just wants to get out of this room and go to her friend.

Who might be already dead.

A ragged sob escapes from her throat as she recalls what happened only minutes ago – the crowd, the shouting, Tasha, Rosa, the gunshots… Rose on the ground, blood everywhere, strong hands gripping her arms, pulling her away…

She wants to get out of here. She wants to go to infirmary and help Rose – heal Rose – save Rose – make sure that her best friend stays with her.

But she can't.

Because she is too damn important.


	937. 935 Belong

**935. Belong**

POV: Mia  
>Word Count: 141<p>

"Hey guys! I'm… I'm not really good at this, but here it goes:

"You've known me for a while, and things haven't been always peachy between us – for which I take full responsibility. Okay, not full, but a significant part of it. I was a little bitch back then, okay?

"But even then, you let me in. You let me help, and in return you helped me – you helped me to find myself. You helped me realize that my place was not hiding behind make up, curled hair and false friends, but where I can actually do something. Where I can be myself.

"Even if it means that I am still a little bitchy sometimes.

"You showed me where I belong. And for that, I'll be forever grateful to you – and for being able to call you my friends. Thank you"


	938. 936 Guilt

**936. Guilt**

POV: Dimitri  
>Word Count: 157<p>

People say time will heal all your wounds.

People lie.

True, time will make it easier to accept all the bad and the wrong, the scars and the hurt, the _what if_s and the _if only_s. But it will never heal.

You will never forget your kills – not even the righteous ones, the ones you made to save people, to save yourself. They will stay with you until the day you die, maybe even longer. And what about times you spilled innocent blood?

My hands clench into fists, the nails digging painfully into my palms.

Innocent blood will never get paler.

I don't care what they say. That I wasn't myself. That I shouldn't torment myself over it.

It's madness.

Of course it's me who is to blame. I am the reason that there are widows and orphans and childless parents out there right now. The circumstances don't matter.

Murder is murder.

How could time heal this?

**A/N: If you have already seen **_**Disciple**_**, or you are watching this tonight, and want to talk about it, you are more than welcome to PM me. I have quite a few thoughts, theories and analysis on this episode.**


	939. 937 Pants

**937. Pants**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 291<p>

Adrian wakes up grunting, with a splitting headache. He moans into his pillow – good, so he is in bed –, trying to recall last night. He vaguely remembers drinking. For once not to take the edge of spirit off, but to have fun. He was celebrating something… Yeah. Sydney's graduation. He even said a toast. Then drank a whole bottle of champagne. And then some shots. Although he is not sure.

There is something silky under his chin – yeah, that would be the sleeve of his shirt. So he is still in yesterday's clothes. Good to know. But then why do his legs feel so airy…

Oh, of course. Because he is not wearing pants.

Forcing his eyes open and looking around the room – his own room, which is a great relief – he corrects this previous statement: he is missing his pants. Because they are nowhere in sight.

He gets up, walks out of the room – it takes about four times longer than it should –, and, of course, finds Sydney sitting at the kitchen table, already prim and proper, coffee mug in one hand, the other hovering above her iPad. He lets out a strange noise, something between a painful groan and a little "pay attention to me"-cough. She looks up at him. He tries to talk. It doesn't work at first.

"Do you have any idea where my pants could be?" he says on his second try. Or t least tries to say and manages to utter something barely unintelligible, and more than likely ungrammatical. But she understands, and that's what counts.

She smirks. This is her sign for "I am going to be cruel right now and I am going to immensely enjoy it".

"Where you left them."

**A/N: After the last couple of dark drabbles, this was long time coming. On another note: I really should start heading to bed earlier…**


	940. 938 Lacrosse

**938. Lacrosse**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 256<p>

Sydney stumbles upon the picture by accident – she is looking for a Dickens novel, when, pulling a heavy tome off the bookshelf, the photo comes out of hiding, and slowly falls to the floor upside down.

Putting the book away she bends to pick it up – out of tidiness and curiosity –, and turns it over.

Her eyes go a little wide.

It's of Adrian, maybe a couple of years ago – he is no more than eighteen on it. It's obviously a commissioned photo, the kind they take in school every year, and it's easy to see that he prepared for the shoot: his hair is perfectly styled, his shirt is well-tailored, his mischievous little half-smile is in place. There's only one thing out of order on the picture – the huge black eye he is sporting.

"Hey, Sydney, have you find… oh, no," Adrian comes into the room, and steps in his tracks right away, seeing the picture in her hand. "Please, put that back to where you found it, and forget about it altogether."

She smiles. She can't help it.

"What happened?" she asks, teasing. "Tried to woo a girl, and her boyfriend found out?"

He places his weight from one foot to the other, and reaches behind his neck, massaging the sinewy muscles.

"Not exactly," he says at last. "I had a phase. I wanted to try out some kind of sport. And that picture was taken a day after my first lacrosse practice."

She can't decide whether she should laugh or hug him.

**A/N: Do you know how much I know about lacrosse? Only that half the lacrosse team is gay in American Pie. **


	941. 939 INXS

**939. INXS**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 118<p>

_Need You Tonight_ is on repeat, and Lissa is sitting in the corner, her eyes teary, yet refusing to cry.

It's not that big of a deal that it is worth crying over.

After all it's just an old band, deciding not to tour anymore. After all, they have been doing this for thirty-five years. She understands them.

And yet…

They were her parents' band. Their songs floating in the background of her earliest memories. She remembers the story of every concert her parents went to. Knows many of the lyrics by heart.

Her parents have been dead for years. And now their favorite band is going down, too.

It feels a little like losing them once again.


	942. 940 Australian Football League

**940. Australian Football League**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 112<p>

At five in the morning there is nothing much going in on television, thanks to human schedule – which is rather annoying when you get off a rather uninteresting, spent-in-the-office, shift and all you want to do is watching some mind-numbing sitcom, and all you get is infomercials. Or a blank screen.

This is the reason I got into channel-surfing – and bless the amazing cable service at Court.

And this is how I found the Australian Football League broadcasts.

I mean, I know nothing of the game itself, really. Guys, a ball, goals. Cool.

But, but… Guys. Eye candies. Serious eye candies. Muscles and stuff. Contacting. Colliding.

It's better than any mind-numbing sitcom.

**A/N: Guys, you seriously should stop giving me sport related prompts :D I am one of the most un-sporty people out here :D**


	943. 941 Fantastic

**941. Fantastic**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 113<p>

At first, Christian was against the idea. Not against matching Halloween outfits in general – only against this.

The blue, skin-tight overall, with that stupid number on the front. The slicked back hair, with his temples dyed white (what guy dyes his hair, anyway?). And furthermore, a comic book character, really?

Ugh. No.

But then he saw Lissa's version of the outfit – the same overall, hugging her every curve really, really nicely. Hair falling down free, light, natural make up.

She was a vision. A very, very sexy vision.

That was the moment when he started to think that maybe, just maybe, this whole comic book-based, matching costume thing wasn't such a bad idea.


	944. 942 Hooligans

**942. Hooligans**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 141<p>

Rose honestly has no idea how she ended up reading a bedtime story to the wide-eyed Paul and the giggling Zoya. (Okay, she actually has some: Karolina said the kids should focus on English a bit more, and what way to do that would be better than having an American read to you?)

So, yeah, she reads. From an overly colorful book on a tribe of Vikings under the name of 'Hairy Hooligans' (hah, catchy name) who keep dragons as pets. It's a bit… strange.

But the main character – named 'Hiccup', she might add –, is endearing with his freckles and unruly, red hair, and that dragon is pretty adorable, and…

…And she finds herself looking for the next book in the series as soon as the kids go to bed.

Everybody should feed their inner child from time to time.

**A/N: I haven't read the books, but the fact that **_**How to Train Your Dragon**_** is the best computer animated movie of all the time is not up for debate. (Also, am I the only one who is super excited about the **_**Frozen**_** soundtrack? I mean – Idina Menzel!)**


	945. 943 What If

**943. What If**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 218<p>

"Okay, so I spoke to mom last night and she wants to know if you are still okay to come over for Christmas?" Lissa twitters with a wide smile on her face, but her words seem to find deaf ears – her best friend's attention seems to lie elsewhere. "Rose, are you even listening to me?"

"What? Sure, yeah, I am still game. When am I not?" she tattles, her eyes still not focused on Lissa. "Okay, now try to turn around unsuspiciously, and take a look at the guy behind you."

Lissa doesn't ask why, only does what she's been asked – although Rose's hand on her arm tells her she turned a little too fast – and moves her gaze until it falls on – oh. What a cutie.

"Do you know who he is?" Rose asks when Lissa turns back to her. She shrugs.

"I guess that new Guardian I've heard Guardian Petrov talk about with Miss Karp. They said his charge died recently, that's why he came here. I think he's from Russia – I bet he has an adorable accent."

Rose lets out an appreciative sight, then, smirking, she says:

"Well, I wouldn't some one-on-one sparing with him."

"And I wouldn't mind him protecting me. Preferably 24/7."

The two girls look at each other and erupt in giggles.

**A/N: I don't know who sent me this prompt, but damn you :D This prompt has a full treasure chest of possibilities – so much more could be written based on it than one drabble…**


	946. 944 Neck

**944. Neck**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

Even amongst humans, Lissa is concerned.

They keep long intervals between feedings, and dhampirs heal fast, but still – there are almost always bite marks on Rose's neck. Two small puncture wounds, scabbed over, surrounded by purple discoloration.

Rose is, of course, precautious – she wears her hair down; chooses turtlenecks over V-necks; covers it up with make up as much as she can; and if somebody still spots the marks, she'll laugh, wave her hand, and conjure up some crazy story about a crazy night and a crazy guy.

If somebody spots the marks the second time, they move.

Nothing bad happened – yet. They haven't been discovered. Nobody has pointed at them screaming vampire. No people in white coats have come for them.

But Lissa still worries.


	947. 945 Arctic Circle

**945. Arctic Circle**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 121<p>

"Are you sure we are really not within the Arctic Circle?" Rose asks from under her pile of blankets, toes clad in thick, fuzzy socks peeking from underneath it. Dimitri merely chuckles as he hands her a mug of hot chocolate.

"I am. And it's not like we are outside – and it's not colder in here than it would be in America," he says as he settles down beside her.

"Yes it is. The Siberian winter seeps through the walls," she argues, then pulls the blankets away from her body a little with one hand. "Want some blankies?"

"No, thanks, I'm good," he smiles, apparently amused by her antics.

"And if I just want to cuddle?"

"Then scoot a little closer."


	948. 946 Flag

**946. Flag**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

Lissa can't look out of the window. She just can't.

There are people out there. Hundreds and hundreds of people, waving flags with dragons on them – waving the Dragomir flag –, ready to cheer as soon as they can sneak a peek at her.

At their new Queen.

She doesn't want to be celebrated. She doesn't want any of this. She never has.

If she could have her way…

She just wants peace. She just wants to be normal. She wants her family. And Christian. And Rose.

_ Rose…_

Her chest tightens, something dark gripping her heart. It's hard to breath. Tears stream down her face. Her knees give up. She falls to the floor.

She just wants it to be over.

She wants to wake up.

**A/N: When the Bond first broke, it must have been terrible for Lissa – she must have felt it, and she must have already been upset: Rose wounded, she is suddenly a queen, and under lockdown, facing new expectations… And panic attacks are not nice. I am speaking from experience**.


	949. 947 Avery

**947. Avery**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 163<p>

People are curious, so they talk. Even in a mental hospital.

There's that girl in room 511 who keeps everyone's imagination occupied, for example. She was brought here over a year ago by government officials – or at least people who looked like government officials – who said nothing. She was filed under the name Jane Doe. (Some say she is a daughter of royal, kept in secret in her whole life because of her mental health; others say she was kept hostage by Strigoi, and although she was rescued, she was already broken beyond repair.)

She barely has any lucid moments – and even when it seems like she knows where she is, she is quiet, staring at the walls. Other times she babbles nonsense. Sometimes she hurts herself – claws at her own skin and bites into her own flesh.

Everybody knows that there is no chance that she will ever be released.

Everybody wants to know who she is and how she got here.


	950. 948 NCIS

**948. NCIS**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 139<p>

Adrian used to have a strange notion that watching Sydney work her Alchemist-magic (which is most certainly not magic-magic, only some kind of strange chemistry that _looks_ like magic) would be interesting. Hot, even.

Emphasis on the past tense.

Because in reality, watching Sydney work is anything but interesting – she is focused and (so) easily irritated. She won't tolerate being talked to. Or let him help. Or at least let him play with her instruments.

He lets out a pained sigh.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he says, and at first he doesn't want to go on, but then under her slightly angry gaze he changes his mind: "It's just… When they do stuff like this on NCIS it looks much cooler."

Her eyes get even narrower as he speaks.

"Then maybe you should watch _that_ instead of bothering me."


	951. 949 Accomplished

**949. Accomplished**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 117<p>

Every file, every report, every recommendation on her says that Janine is 'accomplished' – the exact word might not be there on the paper, but it still can be felt.

Spotless school record. First of her class. Important, high-end charges – none lost. Perfect behavior. Confident and discreet to fault. Remarkable fighting skills and style. Numerous kills.

Yes – she is the perfect Guardian. But at the same time…

She has never learned to follow her own heart. She has a daughter she doesn't even know. She has gaping holes on her soul – big, black holes, drilled by regret and heartache.

She might be an accomplished Guardian.

But as a person, a woman, a mother – she feels like a failure.


	952. 950 Scream

**950. Scream**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 274<p>

At first, Mrs. Witherby really liked her new neighbors – a young couple, the man slightly foreign-sounding, the woman slightly foreign-looking, but both of them so obviously in love. They were nice people, greeting her on the corridor and offering to carry her groceries. They were adorable. She liked them.

At least until the day when that little woman came home from work – allegedly from work – with a black eye and a broken arm. It was nothing, the couple said, waving Mrs. Witherby's concerns away. Just a little accident at work, nothing to worry about.

But Mrs. Witherby did worry – oh, she had seen enough in her life to worry. Husbands loving their wives, then drinking a little too much and beating them up. Others hitting them for fun, just because they could, then, with a smile on their faces, the husbands telling the neighbors that it was just a little accident at work.

So Mrs. Witherby kept her eyes and ears open.

Then one day, a couple of weeks later, she heard it – painful, scared screams coming through the walls from the young couple's apartment.

She didn't waste her time – she grabbed her favorite rolling pin and the emergency spare keys to their apartment, rushed to their door, opened the lock in a haste, then, rolling pin raised high she marched in, and–

There they were. Lying on the couch. The woman shirtless. The man above her. Tickling her sides. Tears spilling from her eyes from laughing.

She stopped. They stopped. She let the rolling pin down. The young woman let out a little embarrassed chuckle, blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"Hi, Mrs. Witherby…"

**A/N: Happy Romitri. Because Roza-Dimka-Reader asked for it :)**


	953. 951 Cassette Tape

**951. Cassette Tape**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 170<p>

Looking at it now, with mature eyes, it seems rather silly – but at nineteen it was the most romantic thing Janine could have come up with.

At first she didn't want to admit that she'd fallen for that charming, foreign man, but then one night found her sitting on her bed, lovesick smile on her face as the singer in the radio belted out the chorus of some cheesy love song – and then five minutes later she was standing in front of the radio, fresh tape in hand, ready to record her favorites so she could show him.

It took her eleven tapes and five days to perfect the mix. A week more to gather the courage (it was ridiculous; she was paid to fight with monsters, and she barely dared to hand over a silly gift to the man she… liked) give it to him.

Back then she it thought it was a very romantic gesture. Now it seems silly.

But that he still has it? Now, that's romantic.

**A/N: Okay, as I was proofreading it I realized that I technically built in a Castle-reference. Unconsciously. It's starting to get kind of scary :D**


	954. 952 Fast and Furious

**952. Fast and Furious**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 122<p>

Rose is so surprised by his offer that she almost drops the keys as they are tossed to her. With some acrobatics she catches them, sliding a slender finger into the key ring, then, eyes wide, she looks up at Dimitri.

"You are letting me drive?"

He smiles in response.

"Just this once. But please don't total the car if you can."

She sticks her tongue at him as she opens the car door and slides behind the wheel.

"I am a capable driver, thank you very much," she says as she pulls up the seat.

"And no speeding." he adds quickly from the passenger seat just before she starts the engine.

"You are a real party pooper, you know that, right?"


	955. 953 Jenna Marbles

**953. Jenna Marbles**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 153<p>

It all started with Adrian trying to look up some song he had heard a long ago at a half-forgotten party, but of courses ended with him ending up at the strange part of YouTube, watching video after video of a blonde girl doing crazy stuff while cursing excessively. He just couldn't look away – when one video ended, he started the next one: drunken hair tutorial, how girls dress, how girls take a shower (which was actually a lot less interesting than he expected it to be).

"What are you doing?" asked a voice, one that he identified as Sydney's a second later, making him jump, almost shutting the laptop on instinct.

"Watching some girl on Youtube."

Sydney's eyebrows rose at his words.

"Should I be worried?"

"Not really – this girl is like a train wreck," he turned back to the screen and hit play, "I want to look away, but I can't."

**A/N: Before this day, I've never heard of Jenna Marbles (mind me, I usually use Youtube to listen to Disney songs, Hungarian stand up comedy spots and watch Castle sneak peeks). I sorta watched three of her videos, but I doubt that I'll watch more in the future. She really is not my cup of tea. (As for the swearing comment: I don't swear – the dirtiest thing you'll hear from me is most likely 'damn'. Swearing – especially done by a girl – makes me uncomfortable. The way Jenna speaks in her videos makes me uncomfortable.)**


	956. 954 Pretend

**954. Pretend**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 132<p>

I'm feeling playful – let's play pretend! I'll start.

I'll pretend I don't love you. I'll pretend my heart doesn't start to race the moment you enter the room. I'll pretend I won't get Goosebumps when you touch my arm. I'll pretend I don't have trouble breathing when I can feel your breath on the back of my neck.

And please, pretend that you don't love me, either. That you don't notice these things, either.

In return, I'll pretend I can't see the fire in your eyes when you look at me. I'll pretend I can't see you Adam's apple bob as you watch me move. I'll pretend I don't notice your muscles tense when my scent hits you.

I am feeling playful – so let's play pretend.

(Otherwise my feelings might break me.)


	957. 955 Beard

**955. Beard**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

Adrian was scrutinizing his reflection in a way that told Sydney that he was up to something. Something she wasn't going to like.

His fingers skimmed over the line of his jaw, then he turned his head first to right, then to left, his brows furrowed, mouth slightly open. Yes – he was seriously contemplating on something.

"Care to share with the class?" she asked when her last nerve was just about to break.

"I am just trying to figure out how I'd look with a beard," he answered. "I might grow one."

"No. Don't even think about it," she shot his idea down in an instant, then, to his questioning gaze, she added: "I don't even want to think about the rash it'd cause."

His eyes widened a little in understanding, nodded, then turned back to the mirror.

"And what about a mustache?"


	958. 956 Diet Coke

**956. Diet Coke**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 114<p>

"We had a deal."

"But…"

"We had a deal. I've been keeping to my end: no smoking, one drink a day."

"But…"

Sydney lets out a frustrated huff, staring deep into Adrian's eyes, as determined as she can be. Because it's ridiculous. Completely, utterly ridiculous. And it's not really like she is going against their initial agreement. She makes sure to eat well. Three, well-balanced meals a day. It's just a little habit of hers, not really about calories, or anything, just…

Adrian raises one of his eyebrows at her, his gaze determined, unrelenting.

He is serious about it.

She lets out a defeated sigh.

"Okay. I'll take the regular coke with my popcorn."

**A/N: And we are over 3000 reviews! Thank you, guys! :)**


	959. 957 Owl

**957. Owl**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

"Mama, I want an owl."

In the last decade or so Karolina has gotten used to strange requests, but this makes even her eyes go wide.

"And why, exactly?" she asks as Paul climbs on top of the kitchen counter, hands resting behind his back on the countertop, legs swinging back and forth.

"So he could carry my letters," he says, then, seeing his mother's still confused gaze, he elaborates: "I am sure I am getting my Hogwarts letter soon, and they don't have phones there, so I'll need an owl to keep in touch with you."

Karolina merely blinks.

"And where did you get that?"

"From the book Aunt Roza sent me for Christmas."

_Oh_, Karolina sighs, _that explain everything_.

(Still, she'll have to talk to Rose about it. And maybe read that book herself.)


	960. 958 Braid

**958. Braid**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 164<p>

Dimitri likes playing with her hair.

She noticed it not long after they move together – in the evenings when they are both free but too tired to do anything but cuddle, they would snuggle up together on the couch, lazily touching, caressing, and just before she would fall asleep, she would notice him – gently, tentatively first – reach for her hair.

Playing with the curls.

Combing his fingers through it.

Braiding it.

She welcomed this show of affection, but there was one thing she found hard to understand: he could braid her hair better than she could. Honestly – his braids were textbook perfect.

She wanted to ask him about it, she really did, but he knew what she was going to say even before she said a word – knew by simply seeing her gaze at her newly braided hair. So he leaned in, pressed a kiss against her temple, and murmured into her ear:

"I grew up with three sisters."

She didn't ask anything else.

**A/N: My dad has younger fraternal twin sisters – when they were kids, he used to braid their hair before school :)**


	961. 959 Sex Bell

**959. Sex Bell**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 143<p>

There was a small box – wrapped in sparkly paper, with a bow on the top – next to her morning coffee.

Sydney regarded it suspiciously, with one eyebrow raised – she was not used to random surprise gifts. Not on early Monday mornings. She didn't have a good feeling about this box… but still, she reached for the lid cautiously.

She lifted the top without any incidents – no hidden bombs, snakes jumping out – and peeked into the box. It did have something inside, something maybe about ten inches tall, with a black handle. Curious, she reached into the box and pulled out–

A bell. A red hand bell with the text "Ring for Sex" printed in bold, black letters on its side.

She snorted.

"You'd better forget it!" she called over her shoulder, and was soon rewarded with an amused chuckle coming from the bedroom.


	962. 960 Stockings

**960. Stockings**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 145<p>

Mia's mother was a knitter.

Not a very good one, but still enthusiastic. Many ill-shaped scarves and hats and stillborn sweaters came semi-alive on her needles. And stockings – lumpy, formless stockings in red and white, with names embroidered in yellow on their sides.

These stockings were her childhood: hung on the wall next to the tree – they didn't have a fireplace –, anxiously waiting to be filled with trinkets. At least that's what her father always told her as they picked the stockings out of their box and hanged them up. Her father could always come up with the most magical stories, and her mother would just watch them from the armchair, knitting needles in hand, soft smile on her face.

The stockings are still there, waiting patiently in their box.

Mia is not sure if she has the strength to hang them this year.

**A/N: I am honestly curious (as we don't have this tradition where I live – although we do have something else): do you have stockings? What is put in them at Christmastime? **


	963. 961 Splits

**961. Splits**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 111<p>

It's equal parts scary and hot watching Lissa stretch in the mornings – the way her lithe body bends, her hair falling forward, her muscles lengthening…

Okay, it's more hot than scary.

But still.

Lissa turns towards him, a slow smile appearing on her face.

"Don't you want to join me?" she asks from her position on the floor, while leaning forward to touch her toes.

Christian merely shakes his head.

"Nah, thanks. I'm content with watching," he says, leaning against the doorframe.

"Well, you know," she answers, then effortlessly opens her legs into a perfect splits.

Christian swallows. Maybe joining her for a little flexibility training wouldn't be the worst idea.

**A/N: Thank you for your awesome answers yesterday!**


	964. 962 All Nighter

**962. All Nighter**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 213<p>

Investigative work looks so much more fun on TV.

They are tracking a Strigoi who is assumed to have formed a kind of gang. He's a threat. He must be found. But he is good at covering his tracks.

So Rose's last ten or so hours – or it could have been even twelve – were spent with poring over case files, bank statements, and a bunch of other documents with black letters on white paper. They tend to blur together after some time.

She doesn't notice when he arrives – only sees the cardboard cup appearing in her field of vision.

"It's hot chocolate," Dimitri says, sitting down next to her. "Just to have some sugar in our system."

She gives him a grateful smile as she reaches for the cup.

"Thank you."

"You know you can take a break, right?" he says softly. "You don't have to act like you are invincible all the time."

She wants to protest – she wants to say that she really has to do it, that lives depend on it, but then he speaks again.

"Come here," he whispers, and she does. She lays her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes as he starts caressing her hair, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear.

She's asleep within minutes.


	965. 963 Dancer

**963. Dancer**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 135<p>

Despite all the Guardian training, the difficult steps and kicks and lounges, Janine was a terrible dancer – the kind that got tripped over her own feet.

She wasn't shy about it – she told everyone who wanted to dance with her that night that it was a bad idea. That they should ditch her if they had any attachment to their toes. Most of them listened to her. Except Ibrahim.

He just grabbed her hand and, despite her protests, pulled her to the dance floor. There he put one of her hands on his shoulder, held the other in his own, and started leading her, expertly, smoothly, magically.

She forgot about everything for a few minutes.

And realized that maybe it wasn't so much that she was a bad dancer – she just needed the right partner.

**A/N: As someone with two left feet, I can tell you it makes a huge difference if your dance partner knows what he is doing. Also – I have started reading **_**Fiery Heart**_**. (No spoilers, please)**


	966. 964 Bubbles

**964. Bubbles**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 174<p>

It was a bad day, and in addition about six hours too long.

Royals after royals came to her all day (whose genius idea it was to have a full day spent with holding audience?), ranting about their petty, stupid problems, demanding her to take action at once, or trying to tell her how she was supposed to rule over Moroi, and, not to mention, what new laws should be phrased regarding dhampirs.

And the end Lissa simply wanted to tell them to rot in hell. But she couldn't. Because she was the Queen. So she simply imagined how she'd kill them. In detail.

So, to sum it up, by the end of the day, she was exhausted and grumpy, read to bite someone's head off.

But, fortunately, she had Christian to look out for her.

As soon as she stepped into their chambers, he took a single look at her, put his iPad down, stood up and said:

"One bubble bath coming right up."

Days like this, she was so grateful for him.


	967. 965 Galway Girl

**965. Galway Girl**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 188<p>

The guy was cute – not that cute that had your soul tremble, but the one you wanted for a night to help you forget the one who broke your heart. And he was naïve and smitten enough for it, too.

The fact that he was human didn't even bother Tasha. It wasn't supposed to last longer than the night, anyway.

So she smiled and flirted and twirled her hair, and the guy was eating from her palm within an hour. Then, she led him to her apartment.

Their encounter was frantic and desperate. It wasn't that good as it could have been – but then again, what sex is good, when your mind is occupied by imagining another man kissing and touching you? – but it brought relief. And that was exactly what she needed.

She left the apartment long before sunrise. She wrote the him a note, telling him that the key was on the kitchen counter, and that he should just drop it into the letter slot when he left. And that that was it – no encore, no next chapter.

She didn't care if she broke his heart.


	968. 966 Tidings of Comfort and Joy

**966. Tidings of Comfort and Joy**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 137<p>

The first Christmas after her parents and brother died is terrible.

They are on the run, she and Rose are only fifteen, and they are on the run, have been for eight… nearly nine weeks, and it's the third place they are staying at. They don't have much more than a backpack of clothes and necessities. It doesn't feel like Christmas – not without the lights, the tree, the merriment – and she would have forgotten about it altogether, would have forgotten the date, if not for the carolers singing down the street.

She doesn't realize she has started crying, not until Rose settles down beside her on the bed, draws her close, tucks her head under her chin and starts singing softly, along with the distance voice of the carolers:

"Tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy…"

**A/N: A little off topic, but I thought I'd share this with you guys: I had an oral exam on Language Usage today and I drew the topic "Internet and Literature". At first I started babbling, trying to make sense of my notes on the topic in my head, then turned to conversation towards fanfiction, and did it so well that I spent the next ten minutes talking about fanfiction and interacting with other fans on the internet – which was totally not in the curriculum, not even touched during lectures –, that I got and A and now my teacher wants me to write a paper on the topic because she's interested :D**


	969. 967 Tweezers

**967. Tweezers**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 122<p>

"Christian, not that I have any problem with having you here, but, out of pure curiosity, I must ask – what are you exactly doing in the Guardian Headquarters?" Rose asks, leaning forward, her elbows on the desk, more amused than anything else.

"I'm hiding," he says, than after a beat of silence, he adds: "from Lissa."

"Oh yes, she's a menace in bunny slippers," she agrees, smirking. "But what did she do exactly that had you running?"

"She made a comment on my eyebrows."

"And hurt your feelings? My poor little baby…"

"She didn't." He swallows. "But she did pick up her tweezers …"

He only needs to hear her laugh to decide that his last sentence maybe wasn't his best idea ever.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update yesterday – I had a killer exam this morning, and I was studying for until late last night, and when I finished the only thing I had energy for was to go to sleep… So double drabbles today!**


	970. 968 Erase

**968. Erase**

POV: Adrian  
>Word Count: 149<p>

Our lives are so much like drawings: there are lines and shades and patches of color.

Some drawings are beautiful.

Some are ugly.

And there are mistakes.

We can try to get rid of them – try erasing them, drawing over them –, and sometimes we succeed, sometimes we don't. Because some of the mistakes are light, just a smudge of graphite that disappears at the lightest touch of the eraser, but some of them are so deep, they go below the surface. They make indentations into the paper, and no matter how hard we try to erase them, they lose some of their color, but the scar remains. No matter how hard we try to draw over them, the wound will shine through the new color.

It's amazing.

It's terrible.

And the drawing of my life already has so many flaws I'll never be able to get rid of.


	971. 969 Birthmarks

**969. Birthmarks**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 142<p>

Rose's back is dusted with birthmarks – tiny brown spots on the almond skin, like the night sky in negative.

Dimitri loves to connect them, drawing elaborate constellations on the delicate skin as she sleeps on her stomach. He just loves to gently touch her warm skin with the tips of his fingers, caressing her, loving her, slowly stirring her, calling her from her dreams to the land of the living once again.

He loves to see her as she turns her head towards him, her eyes slowly opening, her gaze still heavy with sleep. He loves the slow smile spreading on her face as he never stops his ministrations. He loves as she then moves, reaching out for him, some entirely different awareness stirring within her. He loves as she sits up to capture his lips with hers.

Heavens. He loves her.


	972. 970 Fracture

**970. Fracture**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 146<p>

Lissa eyes the splint on Rose's hand ruefully. She sighs. Louder than she intended.

Rose's eyes narrow in an instant.

"Don't even start," she whispers in an almost-but-not-quite warning tone. "It's just a fracture. Nothing life-threatening. It doesn't even hurt that much. And it's not even your fault."

"But…"

"No buts, Liss."

"I want to help."

"No."

"It would only take a moment."

"You use spirit too much as it is."

"But…" Lissa starts, but can't continue. She takes a deep breath. She knows that Rose is right, of course she knows. But still… "It's just so damn hard."

Rose reaches out and takes her friend's hand with her good one.

"I know. And I am proud of you," she says, with a small smile in the corner of her mouth. "But if you really want to help me, you could get me a little chocolate."


	973. 971 Wrist

**971. Wrist**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

Dimitri still has nightmares about that day.

He sees as the bullet hits Rose, as her blood paints her shirt, as she crumples to the ground…

He wakes out of breath, his skin clammy with sweat. Logically, he knows that everything is all right – that it happened a long ago, that she pulled through, that right now she is lying right next to him, fast asleep. That if he calms down his racing heart, that if the blood stops rushing in his ears, he will able to hear her breathing.

But it's not enough – not when his senses are still full of the dream.

So he reaches out in the darkness, and takes her wrist into his hand, slowly, carefully, not to wake her. Then places his thumb on the vein hiding under the delicate skin, just to feel the steady throbbing under his finger…

It always lulls him back to sleep.


	974. 972 Until We Are Old and Gray

**972. Until We Are Old and Gray**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 129<p>

Sydney simultaneously loves and hates the sentimentalism he brings out of her. Before him everything was black and white for her. Facts and data. And now every color, every smile and word carries a brand new meaning and everything is so much more intense.

It's confusing and amazing.

"Will you love me even when I am no longer… like this? When I am no longer young, when I have wrinkles and my hair has gone white?" she asks one evening as they cuddle together in bed, completely out of the blue.

Adrian just smiles – that soft one she loves –, leans in and kisses her.

"I'll love you till the end of days. Even when I'll have sneak into you room in the retirement home to be with you."

**A/N: Merry Christmas guys! :) I wish you all the best (and various celebrities, fictional characters, etc.) under your tree :) (also, I've finished Fiery Heart) **


	975. 973 Coconut

**973. Coconut**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 196<p>

She has run out of shampoo. Not a big deal – you just go down to the store, quickly walk up to the shampoo aisle, pick up your regular shampoo, pay, then go home. As easy as it is.

At least it used to be like that for her before… Before everything. But now Sydney stands in front of the impressive selection of shampoos, her regular brand within reach, and yet – she is contemplating.

The one she always buys is sensible. Efficient. Is at a good price. It is exactly the kind of shampoo her mind is telling her to buy. And yet – and yet she wants something new. Something adventurous.

So she reaches for bottle after bottle, clicking each and every one open – she shouldn't, she knows that –, taking a whiff. Strawberry. Vanilla. Something sickeningly sweet – maybe bubblegum. She wrinkles her nose at the last one.

And then – coconut. It's exotic and so sweet on her senses. And rebellious – at least for a no-nonsense Alchemist.

She takes one last sniff, quickly looks around herself, then puts the bottle into her cart.

It's an insignificant way to rebel – but every journey starts with a little step.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of update, for once, it wasn't on me – there was some kind of problem with the site and I couldn't reach my personal page :S**


	976. 974 Lasso

**974. Lasso**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

Rose smiles lazily as she draws patterns on Dimitri's naked chest with her fingertips. It was a nice evening indeed, even if things didn't go exactly according to plan…

They were going to Lissa's Halloween party – Dimitri's first Halloween that he actually celebrated, se she tried to make a deal out of it. They planned matching outfits – cowboy and cowgirl, because why not? –, with bandanas and cowboy boots and Dimitri's trademark duster and even a lasso.

And that lasso was their undoing.

It started with light flirting while getting ready. Some kissing. Some groping. Then she tossed the hoop of the lasso over his head. She was just playing. Sort of. And he liked what she was doing.

They missed the party.

**A/N: I uploaded some Castle ficlets today – go check them out if you're interested :)**


	977. 975

**975. Zoo**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 155<p>

Chaos is abound in the Guardian Headquarters' conference room.

It all started with the usual weekly briefing – Hans' usual, boring, I-might-fall-asleep-in-a-moment speech – but then somebody, Rose can't even remember who, came up with an independent idea – something along the lines of actively pursuing a lead on a Strigoi gang – which somehow turned into a full-blown political debate.

What debate? Fight.

Rose, for once, didn't take the lead, but stood back and now is looking down at the fight from the sidelines, an amused and slightly self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

"What?" Eddie asks from where he is standing next to her, not really knowing why she is smiling.

"You know, we should be selling tickets to this," she says. "It would be quite an attraction. Would be even better than a zoo. We could make a fortune."

Eddie doesn't react verbally to her words, only shakes his head, chuckling. No – Rose Hathaway will never change.


	978. 976 Ears

**976. Ears**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 121<p>

Rose has always considered the face, the body, the eyes, the ass – the usual stuff – the most attractive physical qualities of a man. The things that turned her on.

She has never thought that one day the thing that would make her all hot and bothered would be a voice. A slightly accented, deep, wonderful voice.

But as she sits at the counter now, chin rested in the palm of her hand, listening to Dimitri as he prepares dinner while recounting some childhood story – she has honestly lost track of the story – with such a nostalgic passion and almost palpable love in his voice that he has her bitting into her lower lip, grinding her tights together…

She is all ears.


	979. 977 Mice

**977. Mice**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 119<p>

Sydney talks in her sleep, and it's kind of adorable – who is he kidding? It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen.

In the early mornings, just before she wakes up – just before her mind boots – she even answers him if he talks to her.

"Hey, Sage," Adrian whispers into her ear, while slowly caressing the curve of her waist with one hand. "What's up, sweetheart?"

"Mice…" she mumbles into her pillow as a response.

"Mice?"

"Yeah… They wanna dance." She wrinkles her nose. "I don't wanna dance, Adrian. Make them go away."

He turns away from her and chuckles into his own pillow. One day he is so going to record their little early morning discussions.


	980. 978 Fox

**978. Fox**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 113<p>

It amused Abe to no end that people have chosen to call him Zmey. The Serpent. The ruthless predator, who only cares for himself. The one you don't want to cross paths, because you'll end up dead.

Not to mention what ugly creatures snakes are.

He sees himself more of a fox. Cunning. Clever. And yes, one that is dangerous – an animal that can bite and claw if needed, but one that relies more on his smarts than on his power. And one that not only stands for himself, but for his loved ones, too. Because that's what he does.

And, let's not forget – fox are so much more beautiful animals than snakes.


	981. 979 Boat

**979. Boat**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 136<p>

"Escape plan fourteen: buy a boat and sail around the world."

Sydney chuckles into her yoghurt.

"Why a boat? And where would you get the money for it?"

"Details, details," waves Adrian her mocking concerns away. "And it doesn't have to be a boat. It can be a yacht for all I care. Actually, it's better be a yacht. All the luxury you deserve." He pulls his chair closer to hers. "But just imagine it! We could go and see all the places you want to visit: Athens, Rome… Whatever you'd like. And we'd always be in motion, so they'd never catch us."

She just smiles – his plan is way too optimistic, way too idealistic, way too naïve.

Maybe that's why she likes it.

"You know what? I think it's my favorite escape plan so far."

**A/N: I'm going to a party tonight, hence to early update. And with drabble, I bid farewell to the year 2013. Have a great night, all the luck for 2014, and see you tomorrow!**


	982. 980 Train

**980. Train**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 160<p>

Of course all the flights were full. Of course their only way to get back to Court way by taking the train. And of course there were no free sleeping compartments left.

So, there they are, literally on the midnight train, trying to find a position in the small, lumpy seat comfortable enough to catch some sleep.

"Aw, come on…" Rose grumbles, stuffing her bunched up scarf behind her neck, trying to make a makeshift pillow. She's hungry, her exhausted muscles are protesting, and she hasn't slept in over twenty hours – so, yes, she's grumpy. And she wants to sleep, but, apparently, her body just won't cooperate.

She punches her pseudo-pillow once more.

She is stopped by a tender hand on her forearm.

"Hey, come here," Dimitri coaxes her softly, patting his shoulder. "Lie on me."

And she does, resting her head on the soft leather of his old duster, inhaling the earthy scent – and she is asleep within minutes.

**A/N: This is basically my morning. Because after leaving a party at 5 a.m. it's such a good idea to catch the first bus home when the ride is 1,5 hours. Only I had nobody to lean on.**


	983. 981 Wink

**981. Wink**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 123<p>

This arrogant Moroi with his silk scarf and flashing jewelry just walked by her – while she is on duty, nonetheless –and simply winked at her.

Janine knows she should be enraged – and she is, she really is, but that the same time… There's some warm tingle spreading from the bottom of her belly to the tips of her fingers and she is fighting the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watches this Moroi man – he is rather handsome, she must admit – mingle and charm his way through conversations.

After some time, she simply gives up being upset. She gives up fighting her smile.

And as he leaves the room, walking by her once again, she winks back at him.


	984. 982 Butterfly

**982. Butterfly**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 168<p>

"I love how rebellious you have gotten in the last couple of months," Adrian says, smirking, then presses a kiss to the top of her head. "All this going against the authority, aiding rebels, hooking up with a vampire… I am really proud of you."

Sydney simply giggles at his words – yes, giggles –, and snuggles closer to him. It's surreal, she knows. And maybe she should add giggling to the rebellious things she has supposedly been doing.

"You are only missing one thing now – a tattoo."

She looks up at him, somewhat puzzled.

"I already have one," she points at her cheek, but Adrian only shakes his head.

"I am talking about a real tattoo, not some cult-thing. A kind of tattoo you get without thinking, maybe while being a little wasted. One that you regret afterwards. Like a butterfly on your lower back."

Sydney laughs.

"Not a skeleton riding a motorcycle, with a parrot on his shoulder?"

"Nah – you are not that much of a rebel."

**A/N: Somewhat inspired by an episode of my life. It's long for an A/N, but it involved my mom and a tattoo I almost got for my birthday. **


	985. 989 Clover

**983. Clover**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 181<p>

His memories of Sydney are starting to get blurred – it is getting harder to recall the exact tilt of her voice, the color of her hair, the way her eye twinkled when she laughed –, but his feelings for her refuse to fade.

It still hurts just as much as when she was snatched from his life. Some days, it hurts even more.

Like when he finds that damned clover.

For years, it lay pressed between the pages of some poetry book – a book he read for her. He had forgotten about it, but the memories rush back the moment he lays eyes on the four tiny green leaves.

They were out at Jackie's and he suddenly saw the little plant on the ground. He picked it up and presented it to her – he said they needed the extra luck. She smiled – she didn't believe in superstitions –, but kissed him nonetheless. And then slipped the clover between the pages of the poetry book.

A single tear falls on the page next to the clover.

It still hurts. So very much.


	986. 984 Lucky

**984. Lucky**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 131<p>

The doctors say she's lucky.

Lucky, because the bullets entered her without causing unrepairable damage. If their direction was only a fraction of a millimeter different…

Lucky, because they got her just in time. A minute of delay could have been fatal.

Lucky, because she has a common blood type. And friends who are ready to give more blood in a moment's notice.

Lucky. What an absurd notion.

Dimitri allows himself a small, sad smile as he sits on her bedside, her ice-cold hand between his warm palms.

Rose is way more than lucky. She's strong. A fighter. Smart and stubborn. Fast and determined. Loyal and caring. Amazing. Breathtaking.

But if it's only sheer, dumb luck that will get her through this, then let it be. He will have no complaints.


	987. 985 Horseshoe

**985. Horseshoe**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 184<p>

Adrian doesn't really mind being left alone in Jackie's house while the girls are working on some very important, very magical something. There is plenty of interesting stuff lying around the house to keep him entertained (he is convinced that Jackie has some shrunken heads somewhere, only he hasn't found them yet).

There are – amongst a herd of cats – heavy, leather-bound books, little figurines of different deities, rocks and minerals and dreamcatchers and – and a horseshoe.

A lonely, rusty horseshoe hanging on the wall between a clock and a painting of a forest. Adrian stares at it, judging with the artist's eye. It's a strange piece of decoration, no question about it, but there is something nudging his subconscious, some distant memory of a superstition tied to horseshoes, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

So he just shrugs. No reason to tire his brain trying to remember things he can simply ask Sydney about. So he just steps away – but not before adjusting the horseshoe a little.

Because the two ends pointing upward looks so awkward. They are better pointing downward.

**A/N: I don't know about the other corners of the world, but in Hungary it is said that the ends of the horseshoe have to point upwards, or the luck will pour out of it :P**


	988. 986 Cherry

**986. Cherry**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 115<p>

Christian carefully picks up a single cherry from the bowl, takes a good look at it from every angle, then, with great precision, he places it on the top of the cake, promptly in line with all the other cherries, so they form a perfect circle on the buttercream surface.

Lissa is turning nineteen tomorrow – so, of course, there will be a banquet, with platitudes and false affection and forced civility. They will have to smile and bow and kiss and shake hands, and he is already feeling nauseous at the thought of it.

It will be terrible. No way to properly celebrate a nineteenth birthday.

…So they are throwing her a surprise party tonight.


	989. 987 Grape

**987. Grape**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 165<p>

She is been drinking that awful grape-flavored soda again, she knows, there is no need pointing it out to her. But her friends still do. Hell, even Christian does.

Lissa sighs. So, what if she had a little craving for this over-sugared treat? Even if this is the same soda she drank through all nine months of her pregnancy with David. Even if she consumed a bottle a day back then.

No, she is not pregnant. Definitely not. They can stop asking. And hinting. And outright saying.

A girl can enjoy some terrible grape-flavored soda now and then without having a bun in the oven.

No, she doesn't care about the fact that usually she an't stand its flavor. That's usually and this is now, and now she craves this.

…No, it's not that kind of craving. Definitely not. Her friends can shut up. Because she is not pregnant.

But maybe it wouldn't be the worst idea to do a test. Just to be sure.

**A/N: Attention, everybody! We have a Vampire Academy fanfiction award in the works! :) Go to the profile to the amazing hostess/organizer, 0o0-Happy-Dagger-0o0, where you can find the story with the rules and categories, and then go and nominate your favorite stories, writers AND readers!**


	990. 988 Peaches and Cream

**988. Peaches and Cream **

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 156<p>

He is trying, and Sydney appreciates that.

He reads food blogs and watches cooking shows and consults Christian. He is starting to be able to tell certain spices apart without peeking at the labels. He is learning little tricks.

He is still making mistakes – he uses too much salt and cooks to food for too long and burns the chicken. Sometimes their dinner is completely ruined and inedible. Sometimes he tries something crazy – because he saw it in some TV series and it sounded promising – and it turns out terrible.

Some days it's just ramen and pancakes from just-add-water mixes and peaches and cream, because it's easy to make. And because he wants her to eat healthy. Or at least normal amounts.

He is trying, and maybe he is even getting better. But even if he isn't – he is not about to give up. Because he wants to spoiler her.

And she loves him for this.

**A/N: Fun fact: there's a nightclub called Peaches & Cream here in Budapest (all my Google search on P & C directed me to there), and somehow I am always getting their invites on FB. Me, who once won a VIP membership card to a local club on a school raffle, and the club closed without me a) knowing that it went out of business and b) setting a foot in there :D**


	991. 989 Frost

**989. Frost**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 147<p>

The painting is beautiful.

Of course, everything Adrian paints is beautiful – though she might be biased –, but this… This is breathtaking.

She can't tell what it is exactly – the picture is distorted, blurred –, but the details… It's like looking out of a frosted-over window: all cold colors and sharp angles, and then in the middle of the picture there's a dark figure of a woman, far away on the other side of the window, looking back, and it's like the painter is looking at her from behind the window, and there's this terrible feeling of longing, of him not being able to reach her, of her not being able to come back, and…

It's his masterpiece. He put his very soul into this. Every ounce of his pain.

And she exactly knows when he painted it. She wishes he didn't have to live that through.

**A/N: I got a message this morning, informing me that I/my stories have been nominated in six(!) categories in the ongoing Vampire Academy Awards :) Thank you very much, guys! :)**


	992. 990 Glue

**990. ****Glue**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 133<p>

Okay, this is getting ridiculous.

In the last thirty minutes – as known as since he broke that one vase in their room Lissa actually liked – all Christian has managed to do is: spent over ten minutes locating all the pieces of broken porcelain; banged his head into the coffee table as he was picking up a piece; made a mess in one of the drawers as he was looking for the glue; glued his fingers together; and got completely frustrated and angry over a damned broken vase.

Not to mention that he is starting to realize that he sucks at gluing things back together. He's never been good at jigsaw puzzle. Or crafts.

And now he can't even separate his fingers.

…Maybe it would be a better idea to buy a new vase.


	993. 991 Hat

**991. Hat**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 229<p>

The old fedora was most likely left there by the previous tenant of their new apartment – forgotten in the dusty back corner of the wardrobe.

From the moment she found it, Rose had a strange attachment to the out-of-style, but charmingly classy hat. She couldn't have explained it – it simply had an aura. A very sexy aura.

She tried it on – it was too big for her, the rim slipping down, almost covering her eyebrows. But it would have been perfect for…

She sneaked up on Dimitri from behind – this time forgoing her little war cry – and, standing on her tiptoes, popped the fedora on the top of his head before he could have stopped her.

He turned around instantly, one hand reaching for the top of his head to inspect what his beloved had done to him, while the corners of his mouth were already turning into a smile.

"What?" he asked, laughter in his voice. She didn't manage to place the hat on him properly – it was sitting kinda sidewise, tilting forward and leaning to the left. He looked delicious.

She didn't waste her time – grabbed the front of his shirt, and, pulling herself up to him, kissed him. Hard.

"You are just so damn hot," she said, and when he reached for the hat again to take it off, she added: "No. Just leave it on."

**A/N: we are honestly in the final countdown now, guys. It'll be strange saying goodbye to this story…**


	994. 992 Rocks

**992. Rocks**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 178<p>

Adrian really wants to understand magic. Okay, not really magic, but rather what Sydney does – but since she is doing magic, yeah, he wants to understand magic.

But it's damn difficult when all she does is inspecting different rocks for hours.

Sure, they are not just any rocks – they are different kinds of minerals, as she so kindly enlightened him, all good for different stuff: quartz, amethyst, antimony, pyrite… Only she has yet to figure out which one is the most optimal for the charm she is making. And he, foolishly, thought that it would be an interesting process.

But all she is doing is picking up stones, turning them around, noting something down, closing her eyes (it makes him want to close his eyes, too), concentrating, writing down some stuff again…

He sighs, resting his chin on his palm, eyelids dropping. He loves her, so he is watching. Because he is a considerate boyfriend who is interested in, and wants to understand, his girlfriend's pastime activities.

But if only she was at least blowing these rocks up…

**A/N: I've gotten three YouTube vloggers as prompts, but since I don't know them – therefore and interpret all of them the same way – I'd like to skip those prompts, if it's okay. This means that there're now three slots open for prompts.**


	995. 993 Seaside

**993. Seaside**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 159<p>

There was one time when Janine considered giving up being a guardian.

It was near the end of her maternity leave and her heart was breaking. She had never expected to feel like this – she had thought that she was above this kind of sentiment – but to leave her baby girl behind to rejoin a world of strict rules and pain and death…

Back then she seriously considered asking Ibrahim to raise their daughter together. Or at least help her financially so she could raise Rose alone.

She even toyed with the idea of leaving the country. Of going to Turkey, living in a pretty, old cottage on the seaside. Living a calm, wonderful, domestic life. Watching Rose grow up, watching her running on the shoreline in the evening, the setting sun painting her features orange…

But in the end a she didn't do it.

In the end she left her baby at the Academy.

Because they came first.

**A/N: Dear Guest! I've already written one drabble based on a prompt of a YouTube vlogger (Jenna Marbles). It was after that one that I got the other three prompts :)**


	996. 994 SATs

**994. SATs**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 148<p>

Lissa rephrases her speech – her speech for Rose when she finally returns from her crazy quest in Russia – at least a thousand times while her best friend is gone.

She will tell Rose that she was being selfish. That she didn't spare a single thought to her best friend. That she is seventeen year old, for God's sake, she should be worried about grades and SATs and college applications, not about her best friend running off to the other end of the world, ready to get herself killed. She has decided that she'll give Rose a piece of her mind. She will tell Rose that what she really thinks about her little private crusade.

It sounds good in her mind – yet, she knows that she won't say any of it.

Because when – not if – Rose returns, being mad at her will be the last thing on Lissa's mind.


	997. 995 Lorde

**995. Lorde**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 126<p>

She is told that she could go far in the industry, and Jill believes them. And it's not only that – she wants it. She wants to be a model, a star, somebody whom people admire. She wants to be seen beautiful.

She knows that she is young, but it should not be an obstacle, more like an advantage. And, after all, so many people start a carrier this young nowadays. Taylor Swift was only sixteen when her first album came out. Lorde is still only seventeen. Barbara Palvin started working at thirteen, and was already on the catwalk at sixteen, as do so many other young models.

And Jill wants to be amongst their ranks.

Age doesn't matter. Not here.

But her ancestry and family do.

**A/N: I just had to throw this fellow Hungarian in here :)**


	998. 996 No Shave November

**996. No Shave November**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 189<p>

Adrian thought that it was a good idea. That it would be fun. And it was for a good cause, after all – something she couldn't argue about.

But Sydney had other ideas. At least about the fun part.

Because she just couldn't understand why men were so enamored by the idea of growing a beard because others did too in a given period. No – she didn't understand why they were so much in love with the idea of having a beard in the first place, period.

She even voiced her opinion to Adrian, to which he remarked that a "man's manliness came from his manly beard" – what was rather ironic in itself, considering that he only a grew a beard in Movember, and even that was more of a bristle along his jawline than an actual beard.

Not that she told him that.

So, yes… She wasn't a fan of his new beard (she was sure that even he wouldn't have been a fan of his own beard, had he been on the other side of it). But she humored him.

And had a razor ready for 1st December.


	999. 997 Earmuffs

**997. Earmuffs**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 152<p>

Rose snorted out a laugh the moment she saw him, but Christian remained calm, unresponsive and dignified. At least as dignified as he could be in his current state. With fur earmuffs in bright violet with hot pink polka dots all over it covering his ears.

It wasn't an easy feast.

"Your Grace," Rose started as soon as she managed to suppress her laughter, stepping closer to him, "I didn't know that you aspired to be a trend-setter."

Christian allowed himself a half-amused, half-sarcastic smirk.

"If you must know, it was a gift from my daughter. It's my fatherly duty to wear it."

Rose's mouth twitched – another round of laughter was threatening to burst out of her.

"And what did your lovely wife have to say about your newest fashion-adventure?"

Christian closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then let it all out.

"She helped Christie choose the color."


	1000. 998 Fluffy Socks

**998. Fluffy Socks**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 148<p>

He just can't get enough of her.

He is just so used to the prim and proper, always on the top Sydney, that he sometimes forgets that there are other sides to her as well – other sides, with softer edges. Like in the mornings, before her coffee, her lids still only half open, dates and facts and trivia still hidden in a tricky alcove of her mind she can't quiet reach yet. In the mornings, still in her PJs, or one of his worn, old shirts, her tiny feet clad in enormous, fluffy socks – because the nights are kinda chilly, at least she says so –, hair sticking out in so many directions he can't even count.

Of course, he loves every side of her – how could he not? –, but this side, this still half-asleep, soft and completely disorganized one, is the one he finds the cutest.

**A/N: Okay, here comes a strange question that just popped into my mind as I was writing this, and since we have only two more to go, why not ask this? Okay, so – do you have anything on your body that is kinda strange, but charming/funny? I mean things like… I'm tall (about 5"9') and I wear size 6 (EU size 36) shoes. My ears slightly differ in shape. I have central heterochromia (two colors in both eyes). What about you? :)**


	1001. 999 Sunshine

**999. Sunshine**

POV: Rose  
>Word Count: 141<p>

It's funny how the world – life – works.

There's a storm raging outside – wind and rain and cold, the crescent moon hiding behind angry-sad grey clouds. It's like Nature is about to take revenge – although I don't know what for.

And yet, I am here, in the warm room, lit by the flames in the fireplace, sitting on the floor, the soft material of the rug under my palm. Dimitri's legs are behind my back and I can feel every little move he makes – every little twitch, maybe even the beat of his pulse. Lissa's so close, I can almost touch her as she is lying half on the couch, half in Christian's lap. Her chest is trembling with laughter, and we are laughing with her.

There might be a storm raging outside – but I feel like I am surrounded by sunshine.


	1002. 1000 One Thousand

**1000. One Thousand**

POV: Third Person  
>Word Count: 244<p>

Rose is hunched over a notebook, deep in thought, pencil in hand, the end of it between her lips.

Not a sight he is used to.

Pulling a chair out slowly, quietly, as if he is afraid of startling her, he sits down opposite of her.

"Is everything okay?" he asks almost carefully.

"What?" her head shots up, her eyes confused for a moment. "Sorry, sorry, it's just… nothing. Nothing's wrong. It's just something's occurred to me, so I did some counting – shocking, I know –, and…" she stops for a moment, putting the pencil down and pushing her notebook towards him, "…And it turns out it's gonna be exactly one thousand days tomorrow since we met." As she speaks the corners of her mouth slowly ascend, until there is a full-bloom, completely lovestruck smile on her face.

He picks up the notebook, but doesn't really see the numbers.

"So… A thousand, right?" he asks, looking at her over the top of the notebook.

"Yep."

"That's some kind of accomplishment," he nods, putting the notebook down, then leans closer to her over the desk. She mirrors his movements, and they meet in the middle.

"Something like that," she says, her lips millimeters from his. "But the real question is – are you ready for the next thousand?"

He captures her mouth in a quick kiss.

"To be completely honest," he says once they pull away, "I was thinking about more like the next twenty thousand."

**A/N: Well, this is it, guys – the end. We've had a great run :) You have been the best, and I am really grateful for it :) It's kinda hard to write down these words now. This series has been a vital part of my life for nearly three years now. I hardly ever went to be without writing a little something beforehand. And it will be so strange – and even sad – when tomorrow evening comes, and I won't have this obligation. But… This is goodbye. Not to fanfiction, not to this fandom, only to this story. And – thank you, once again. Thank you for support, for your kind words, for your patience, your prompts. Thank you for the PMs and the fangirling. For taking up with me and my crazy obsessions. I am going to miss our daily meetings :) Thank you all!**


	1003. Vampire Academy Movie

Hi guys!

Sorry, it's not an update – it's just that I finally saw the movie (the official premier isn't until March 6th in my country, but thanks to the distributor, I managed to snatch a couple of tickets to the pre-premier screening. The joke is that if we are a little louder we could have gotten tickets to the press screening a week earlier… But now we are on the press-list of the distributor :D), and wanted to share my thoughts on it.

It was good – not perfect, but good. I liked how they worked with the story, but couldn't help wondering if I would have understood it without having read the book. The script was great, loved the one-liners, but maybe they put jokes to places where they shouldn't have (e.g. Kirova's "why didn't I become a model"–line). The acting was on-spot, I especially loved Zoey Deutch and Sarah Hyland. I liked the fight scenes, too, I think they were choreographed brilliantly. And cracking the fourth wall in the end – Rose asking for applause – was genius. The whole room started clapping after that line.

What I didn't like were Kirova and Queen Tatiana. Let's make something clear: Kirova is not a bitch. She's the authority in the school, she has to keep order, the order that Rose disturbs (action), so Kirova punishes her (reaction). She shouldn't have gone on talking to Rose about becoming a bloodwhore that way. As for Queen Tatiana – she was way too straightforward – she should have veiled things a bit. Hell, I am not even sure we needed her in the movie.

So, yes, it was great, I enjoyed it – but could have been better. I think it deserves the sequel, and I am sure gonna buy the DVD (and then watch it in with the original voices, as they screened the dubbed version).

As for future stories: right now I am experience a bit of a writer's block. I have some ideas, mainly for Castle, but I simply don't have the inspiration, the time and the energy to write them down – please, bear with me. Next to school, there's a new thing that is consuming my time and my writing capacity: a few friends and I have started a blog about movies, series, books and stuff, and keeping up with the pace we have set up is not easy – for of us are doing it, and we publish three to four articles every day (I'd give you the link to it, but it's in Hungarian – sorry!). But don't despair: I'll be back sooner or later :)


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